


i picture it, soft, and i ache

by kermitwashingtonlincon



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: (kinda), Alternate Universe - Human, Aziraphale and Crowley Have Their Picnic (Good Omens), Baking, Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), F/F, Female-Presenting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Female-Presenting Crowley (Good Omens), Flower Crowns, Fluff and Angst, Getting to Know Each Other, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Wives | Female Aziraphale/Female Crowley (Good Omens), Mutual Pining, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Lives, Reading Aloud, Skinny Dipping, Temporary Character Death, Tenderness, and implied sexual intimacy, aziraphale is a nymph, honestly a moderatley quick burn, kinda implied but, no specific time period, uhaul lesbians., warlock deserves the world
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:34:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 21,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24795481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kermitwashingtonlincon/pseuds/kermitwashingtonlincon
Summary: Deep in the forest, there is an apple tree where a beautiful woman lives alone in her own personal paradise. On the edge of Tadfeild, there’s a different beautiful woman that lives with her baby brother and does odd-jobs to keep them both afloat.What happens when those two women meet?updates semi-frequently
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 91
Kudos: 76





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "work on your other wips" you say "never!" i reply  
> the working title for this was "cottagecore lesbians because im sad"

In the forest, there’s an apple tree that stands taller than it probably should, it’s branches reach out to the trees around it making shade for mushrooms to grow and sheep to rest. In the evenings you can hear the running river and the rustle in the leaves, and sometimes you can hear the voice of the tree’s resident.

In the town next to the forest, there’s a small cottage that stands just as tall as it should to accommodate a tall spinster and her brother. In the evenings, you can hear the spinster tell her brother (and often his friends) tales of wonder from all around the land. Angels, demons, witches, creatures from far far away, and anything else she could think of while she ventured into the forest to search for herbs for the neighbor witch who had too much money lining her pockets.

On one such trip into the forest, Antonia J Crowley pulled her hair up into a ribbon to keep it off her neck, lord was it hot, she was starting to sweat through her shirt. Anathema, the aforementioned witch neighbor, had requested apples so she could use their seeds for something Crowley didn’t pay attention to. 

“Why don’t you just buy them at the market?” Crowley had asked.

Anathema had pushed up her owlish glasses and said “I can only use seeds from a fresh apple,” as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

And so, Crowley was nearly an hour into her trip through the forest, her pockets already full of things Anathema was normally looking for; she just couldn’t find a  _ damned _ apple tree.

_ Crack _ went a particularly loud branch beneath her boot, startling a large snake, her eyes followed its slender body to an apple laying on a stump before it disappeared into the underbrush. 

“Finally!” an apple meant a tree somewhere unless it was the lord playing games with her, she sighed in relief at the sound of the river nearby, maybe she could take a swim. 

Crowley could see the river already, and right beside it the biggest apple tree she’d ever seen, filled with the biggest apples to match. The redhead reached up to fill her sachel with as many as it could carry, Anathema only needed one but Warlock and his friends would  _ love _ these. Maybe she could make a pie if she could remember how.

She stepped down towards the river and sat her boots and sachel in the shade and went to peel her shirt off when she heard a gasp and a loud splash of water to her right. Crowley immediately tugged her shirt down and turned to look at the woman who had just dipped all but her head into the water, bright white hair pooled around her.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’ think anyone lived out here,” Crowley slapper her hands over her eyes, “I’ll go-”

“Oh! Don’t go, I was just startled,” called a light voice, the blonde woman rose a bit more above the water, “I just need my covering, I wasn’t expecting company.” Crowley quickly ran away from the rocky shore and put her face on a nearby tree, face as red as her hair. “You can look now,” said the woman after a moment.

Crowley’s cheeks darkened a shade as she turned to the woman wearing nothing but what was essentially a sheet with a little bit more shape, though it didn’t leave much to the imagination. The woman’s-no, the angel’s hands were working her hair into a long, thick, braid based on muscle memory alone as she looked the spinster up and down. 

“I see you took some of my apples,” the woman commented, and, before Crowley could rush to apologize, added, “It’s fine, I have more than I could ever eat on my own.”

“No, I shouldn’t have taken them without asking. They just looked- really good.”

“You’re alright, dear, take as many as you want. Come back tomorrow! Take more! I don’t need them,” she threw her hands around while she talked.

“I’ll- I’ll come back tomorrow and give you something in exchange, I have all sorts of books.”

The blonde’s eyes twinkled, “What kind of books?”

“Ngk,” Crowley thought about which ones Warlock wouldn’t want to read, “All sorts. Astronomy, poetry, anything.”

The angel stepped closer, oh good lord help, she was beautiful, “You really wouldn’t mind?”

“Course not, I’ll be back tomorrow with all the books I can carry for you,” she extended her hand, “Crowley, by the way.”

The woman took it, “Aziraphale.”

Crowley walked home with a smile on her face, “Warlock? D’you know where the recipe books are? I got apples for pie.”

“Somewhere on the kitchen table, I dunno,” Warlock adjusted his ponytail that didn’t actually keep any hair out of his face and shrugged.

Crowley hung her jacket up on the hook, “Do anything fun today?” 

“Not much. Hung out with Adam and Them.”

Warlock had never been much of a conversationalist, neither had Crowley, but she was trying to have a relationship with her brother, their parents never had. He was a sweet kid, real smart, too, he was just being an eleven year old.

That night, after Crowley had picked out the books they wouldn’t miss, poetry, astronomy, some books Warlock  _ shouldn’t  _ be reading, and packed them away into her bag, she laid in bed and tried to get to sleep. Normally, she had no trouble at all getting to sleep, she quite liked sleeping, but all she could think about was that godforsaken angel in the apple tree. Aziraphale. 

She was s,  _ soft _ . Just a hint of freckles on her pink cheeks, the wrinkles around her eyes that couldn’t decide if they were green or blue. Or brown or gray. And her golden hair was so long, it almost reached her hips, Crowley just wanted to run her hands through it, take that braid out. 

_ Don’t think about that _ , Crowley told herself. This was just- this was just a strange woman in a forest who was practically  _ naked _ .

“Just peel the apples and chop them up,” Crowley said to Warlock while she laced up her boots, “You don’t have to do it right now, just do it later, I’ll be back in a few hours. Oh! Save the skins and seeds for Anathema, she needs them for some reason.”

Warlock groaned, “Whatever you say, sir.”

“Have a good day, ki-“ she tripped on a black mass on the ground, “Hello, Beelzebub,” she knelt down to pet the scrawny little cat.

“Mirawo,” replied Beelzebub, eloquently.

“Don’t scratch my pants, little bastard,” she picked the stray up by his scruff and put him on a tree stump (Crowley had never actually checked Beelzebub’s sex, calling him a boy was just easier). 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale gets new books

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think perspective will mostly be crowleys because i find it easier to write her for some reason but it jumps around

Aziraphale didn’t sleep much, or at least not on purpose, she had a habit of falling asleep on the warm rocks by the river. Now that she  _ wanted _ to sleep, she couldn’t. She wanted tomorrow to be here already so she could see Crowley.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t seen or met women before, she had, just not for a long time. If she kept track of time (which she didn’t), she would know how long it had been since she had interacted with anything more intelligent than her sheep.

The last man she had met was four (?) summers ago, he had come to her tree every day for a week, asking her hand in marriage. He had been very tall with wide shoulders and a cold smile, Aziraphale spent most of her days in that time on the higher branches of her tree. It was debatable whether he was smarter than a sheep or not. 

So, Aziraphale sat alone on a drooping branch in her tree, staring at the sky until the sun came up, painting the sky with red and pink.

She thought about Crowley, how red her hair was, and how it shone in the afternoon sun. Those  _ eyes _ , Aziraphale had never seen eyes that color, almost like honey, she’d met blue eyes, green eyes, purple, brown, but never that perfect yellow. The freckles all over her face and shoulders and stomach before she had pulled her shirt back on. 

Not that Aziraphale had been staring, she was just very observant. She had a good memory. 

“Hey, Aziraphale!”

Aziraphale sat up and pushed the sheep resting in her lap away, “Crowley,” she sighed. No. She did not sigh, she was just tired. 

“Brought you some books,” Crowley sat on a mossy rock and smiled.

“Oh, show me,” Aziraphale sat down near her and fought not to dig her hands into the bag.

Crowley started to pull the books from the bag and handed them to a grinning Aziraphale, “Alright, I hope that’s enough.”

“More than enough, dear, thank you,” she grinned, Crowley stood up to leave, “No! Erm, I just thought you could stay and keep me company for a while. I can get rather lonesome out here.”

Crowley hesitated, “I have to get back to my brother.” Aziraphale pouted, not on purpose, of course, her face had a habit of letting all her emotions show. “I could stay for a bit, suppose.”

“It’s been so long. Since I’ve had someone to talk to, I mean. And when I have had people around, it’s normally men,” the pair rolled their eyes and giggled (both would deny this later, they do not  _ giggle _ ), “They can be very-“ she paused to think of a word, “ _ tiring _ . I just- prefer the company of women.”

Crowley gave her a lopsided smile, “Me too, my brother, Warlock, has this group of friends and I love those kids but they  _ test _ me,” she pulled off her long jacket, revealing her freckled forearms, “They’re all boys, except Pepper, but she’s practically a boy.”

“Well, they aren’t men yet, you can still influence them, so they don’t turn into the kind I’ve met.”

“What kind of men have you met then?” Crowley leaned forward and squinted her yellow eyes. Oh, her eyelashes were long, and she had even more freckles up close.

“Only the type of men who wander through the woods long enough to find a nymph to harass.”

Crowley slapped her forehead, “I  _ knew _ you were something Warlock told me about!” 

Aziraphale recoiled, she was not  _ something,  _ she was a person, vaguely. One of her sheep sat up and raised his ears. 

“No, nono, not something, I meant- Warlock reads a lot of mythology, he tells me about it over dinner- I used to tell the kids more stories but they’ve grown out of them, mostly. I didn’t know nymphs and things were real.”

“Not many anymore,” she sighed, “I don’t know why, they’ve all just- just died out. I’m the only one for miles, the naiads in Serpent River,” she pointed to where she had seen Crowley for the first time yesterday, “have all moved out. Pollution, I believe.”

Crowley frowned. She was even pretty when she did that, “That’s a shame.”

“The last one that lived there told me that if a woman drowned in the water she would become a part of it, so it could go back to normal. But it hasn’t happened yet. I go swimming out there often but it’s not the same as when I was young.”

“How old are you?”

“Rather older than I look. Old enough.” As mentioned earlier, nymphs don’t keep a good track of time, Aziraphale has looked the way Crowley sees her almost her entire life, however long it was.

At some point, the conversation had carried on for over an hour, Crowley looked up and realized how long it had been, she leapt up, “I have to go, angel.”

“Oh, alright. Farewell, dear,” she meekly waved her hand as Crowley ran off, buttoning her shirt. Aziraphale sighed and scratched one of her sheep behind his ears, “Goodness, she forgot her bag.” One part of her said it would be the right thing to call out to Crowley, give her the bag back. The other, less reasonable and more selfish, half told Aziraphale that if she kept it, her newfound companion would come back tomorrow to get it. 

She kept the bag.

  
  


“There you are, you were gone for like, a year,” Warlock said, petting the mangy little cat in his lap.

“Glad you didn’t burn the place down,” Crowley only half-sarcastically commented. There had been an incident last year with fire last year, her baby brother still had a scar on his hand from trying to pick up a hot poker.

“ _ One time _ ,” he grumbled, Beelzebub the cat nodded, “Are we making pie or not?”

“Depends. Did you slice the apples and get the recipe book?”

“Where have you been going the past two days?” Warlock poured some water into the dry dough Crowley was kneading. 

“Out.”

“Out where?”

“Is now the time you wanna know about my life? Squeeze the lemons,” she ordered.

“Dunno, Brian was asking about you. I think he likes you.”

“Eugh, I don’t need to know that your eleven-year-old friend has a crush on me, I’m more than twice his age!” She passed the dough over to Warlock to continue kneading and sliced the apples into smaller pieces; he hadn’t done a very good job earlier.

“I know, but it just had me wondering, you’re normally at home working or out selling,” he commented. Beelzebub was still inside and purring underfoot, Warlock miraculously never tripped on the stray, but Crowley always seemed to. 

“I’m just out, alright kid? I made a new friend- oh  _ shit _ I left my bag-“ she slapped a sticky hand on her forehead, “I have to go back tomorrow to get it back.”

“Is this a guy?”

“No,  _ she _ is just a friend, she has an apple tree and she gave me some, I lent her some books.”

"Yeah."

"Just get the goddamn brown sugar."

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mmmm, i really want apple pie but i don't have any APPLES


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A picnic date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> theyre so fucing stupid

Crowley had decided she would bring some pie to Aziraphale when she went to get her bag back, it was a polite thing to do for a friend. She brushed the dust of a picnic basket she had bought a very long time ago but never used, and gingerly put the entire pie, a knife, two forks and one plate inside. Warlock had had a slice for breakfast and he wouldn’t need anymore, anyway. 

“Bye, kid, I’m heading to see my friend,” she called to her brother, narrowly avoiding tripping over his cat, who had brought a rat today. 

Was she forgetting anything? She needed a blanket. Of course. Crowley ran back inside and grabbed her grandmother’s tartan blanket, it was old and a bit ratty, but she had been on picnics on it when she was younger. 

Satisfied with her date- not a date, a favor for a new friend. Something polite. Whatever it was, she was satisfied with the contents of her picnic basket, and she headed outside. 

“Where are you going?”

“Oh. Good morning, Gabriel,” she sighed. Gabriel was a very tall man, he looked like he’d been built out of blocks. Three for his legs, two for his barrel of a chest and one for his square face. 

“Morning, Antonia,” he offered her an empty smile, “I asked where you were going.”

“Crowley. Since when is it your business?”

“Sorry, I was just curious,” he brushed his already graying hair back. Crowley sighed and started to walk in the opposite direction. “How has young Warlock been?”

Crowley had danced this dance hundreds of times with Gabriel already, she knew he didn’t  _ actually  _ care about Warlock’s wellbeing. He had made it very clear he didn’t think Crowley was a good enough guardian. An unmarried woman raising her brother? How awful, he doesn’t have a negative male influence like Gabriel. 

“He’s fine, not a homosexual or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about,” the spinster gripped her picnic basket.

Gabriel took a step back, “That is not what I was implying, I was just being polite.”

“Go be polite to Tracey, or your  _ wife _ , and your own kids for god’s sake,” Crowley grumbled, “How are they, by the way?” She didn’t care much about his wife, Michael, but his daughters were sweet, as sweet as a pair of two year olds could be. Warlock’s friend, Pepper, had a little sister, too. What was her name? Marie? Something with an m, anyway, Crowley hoped young Esther and Lily wouldn’t grow up to be their father’s daughter. 

“They’re all doing great, thank yo-“

Crowley held out her hand, “I don’t need pictures, I saw them last week. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” she took a big, confident, step forward, “I have places to be.” She didn’t. Not truly. There was no set time for her to be there. Aziraphale didn’t even know she was coming. But for some reason, Crowley felt like she was already late. 

  
  


Aziraphale was having trouble sleeping again, it was starting to get cold outside. Normally, she could just melt into the apple tree and be warm until springtime. But now, she couldn’t just do that, she had a new friend. New friends don’t like when you turn into a tree. Suitors don’t either, which was a plus. 

“You were born with a coat, dear,” she said to a sheep, “I wish I had one.” 

“Angel!”

Aziraphale jumped in surprise, “ _ Crowley _ ,” she sighed happily. She had been dwelling on that new nickname, angel. She liked the way it sounded. 

“I left my bag here yesterday, came back for it.” Oh. Of course she was only here to get something back. There was a reason, and then she would leave. “And I brought you something!”  _ Oh! _ Crowley took a large woolen blanket out of the basket she carried on her arm and laid it on a soft patch of moss, she sat and patted the ground next to her.

Aziraphale hesitated for only a second before she sat on the ground next to the redheaded human. 

“I brought you some pie, family recipe,” Crowley grinned and took a circular something out of her basket. It looked good, a little cinnamon smell filled the air.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had pie,” the nymph remarked.

“You should,” she cut a slice into it and put it on a plate, handing it to Aziraphale, “My brother loves it.”

“Tell me about your brother-mhm! That is good!”

“Is it?”

She nodded aggressively, hair bouncing on her shoulders, “Best thing I’ve ever had. Anyway, tell me about your brother- oh, dear I think I’ve forgot his name”

“It’s a weird name, Warlock.” Crowley was mentally celebrating what Aziraphale had said about the pie, and trying to not focus on the noises she was making too hard. “He's a good kid, he’s annoying, mind you, but he’s good. When my mum died, my dad married his mum and they had him. I’m going to be honest with you here,” she leaned in, “I didn’t want a baby brother, or sister, for that matter, I wanted things to stay the way they were.”

“How did your mother die?”

“She got sick. I was little,” that was a lie, Crowley had been fifteen when her mother died, “Anyway, dad went and married Harriet, had Warlock,” she bit her lip awkwardly, she didn’t normally talk this much. To anybody. 

“Did something happen to your father and Warlock’s mother?”

“Yeah, dad disappeared on a trip and Harriet died two years ago. Warlock was left in my custody, if I hadn’t taken him, the Youngs would have.”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow and swallowed another bite of pie with a hum, “I’m sorry, dear, I don’t know any of these people.”

“Right, sorry, I’ve hardly been outside town, everyone knows everyone else there. The Youngs are Arthur and Deidre, they have a son named Adam, he’s Warlock’s age. Kinda funny, actually, Harriet was Diedre’s sister, and they had their sons on the same day. Those kids are inseparable.” Crowley started to go on about Warlock’s adventures with Them, how he found Beelzebub, how Adam had gotten a dog, so eloquently named Dog. 

“Dog?” Aziraphale laughed, her cheeks turned red and she tilted her chin up just slightly.

“That’s what I said!” Crowley threw her head back and laughed in a way her mother had said reminded her of a duck. She hadn’t laughed like that in a while.

Aziraphale slowly shifted towards Crowley, the heavily wooded forest around them vanished. The birds went quiet, the water running over the river rocks was hushed. The nymph reached a hand out to Crowley’s face and pushed a hair that had made its way out of its place in the half hair bun behind her ear.

“Sorry. It was bothering me,” Aziraphale said softly. The forest returned. A nearby sheep bleated and Aziraphale turned to him, “Oh, hush.”

The spinster tilted her head, “Can you- understand them?”

“Oh,” Aziraphale shook her head, curls bouncing again, “No, I just know his tone. And he’s been loud lately.”

Aziraphale started to go on and on about the books Crowley had brought her. How she could read the Sappho in its original greek, but she’d never read any of the other books she’d gotten. Crowley just sat and listened. Sometimes she stared at all the plants around the small clearing, the mushrooms, the ferns, flowers of any kind she couldn’t remember the names of, the song birds, a deer somewhere far off. 

Mostly she stared at Aziraphale. Plush pink lips, and her hair looked so soft, she was so soft. The nymph was round and soft all around, from her nose, to her chest, to her hips, no sharp edges. Aziraphale brushed her own hair behind her ear and Crowley caught sight of one sharp edge, her ears. 

They just made her look even more like the drawings of fairies in story books, all she was missing was a set of glittering wings and a dress that left more to the imagination. Well, at this point, Crowley had migrated to a rock and Aziraphale had wrapped herself in their picnic blanket against the setting sun.

“Shit! I have to go home, Warlock will be wondering where I am.” 

Aziraphale raised her perfect eyebrows and her mouth made a perfect ‘o’ shape. The golden sunlight reflected in her eyes and Crowley forgot about getting home for a moment. “Oh dear, here,” Aziraphale was trying to re-fold the blanket.

“Ngk, no, keep that, I haven’t used it in years,” she lied, it had laid at the foot of her bed for years, she pulled it up over herself on cold nights, and she had cried into it a few times. Not  _ into _ it, but she would hold it to her chest while she cried, it had been comforting. 

“Are you sure? I feel bad about taking so many things from you. Oh! Don’t forget your bag again,” she handed it to Crowley and their fingers brushed for just a moment, “Come back tomorrow, I’ll have something for you.”

“Will do,” she packed what was left of the pie away, “You’re an angel.”

Aziraphale flushed, “Goodnight, dear, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Seeya!” Crowley took off on the path she had started to make by taking this trip every day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> people should give azi pointy ears more often


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley meets with an old friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk why ive had more motivation to write this lately but shrug

Aziraphale wrapped herself in the blanket Crowley had left her, tracing the pattern with her fingers. It smelled sweet, like cinnamon and cedar smoke. Something Aziraphale couldn’t place. It was nice, regardless, and warm. Normally, she didn’t mind the sheerness of her dress, but now, she found herself simultaneously not wanting Crowley to look at her too hard and wanting Crowley to notice everything about her. A blanket to cover herself when her new companion came around tomorrow- Aziraphale looked at the sun that had started to rise- today, it was comforting.

The little shop bell on the door to  _ Madame Tracy’s Odds & Ends _ did its job of alerting the colorful woman in the back of the shop that someone had arrived.

“Just a moment, dearie,” she called. Crowley made her way into the shop, she had been here hundreds of times, but the oddities scattered about had never been the same. A locket hung on one of the cracked stone busts, a few animal skulls here and there, old paintings in rusted frames, china sets, just to name a few things. 

“Hello, dear!” Tracy ran to hug Crowley, her colorful silk robes swished about while she moved, “How are we today?”

“Ngh,” Crowley sighed, Tracy gave  _ very _ tight hugs, they could be quite nice sometimes but she could squeeze the air from your lungs, “I’m fine.”

“Good, good. Why don’t you sit down? I’ll get you some tea,” she was already forcing Crowley onto an atrocious floral armchair, “Five sugars, I know.” It sounded like a lot, and it was, Crowley had a sweet tooth, and Tracey put sugar in tea like she was trying her hardest to get rid of it but she never seemed to run out. Tracy went into the next room to make the tea, Crowley listened to the familiar sounds. 

“I probably won’t stay too long, I have to meet someone.” The metal teapot clattered on the stove and the spoons jingled when she took them from the drawer. 

The sugar tin opened, “Handsome young man? Are you finally getting married?” Two mugs were set down on the counter, the cabinet left open, as it often was. 

“Not quite.”

“Made a friend that’s your age? How is Anathema, by the way? I haven’t seen her in months.”

“Uh- yes, a friend. And Anathema is fine, she’s busy courting that boy Newt. He won’t take any of her hints.”

“He will eventually,” water was poured, ”you should bring them and your new friend over for tea one day.” One, two, three, four, five scoops sugar. 

“I will,” Crowley promised, three more scoops of sugar. She had no clue if Aziraphale could even enter the town, she couldn’t be too far from her tree, but what was too far? She could ask about it today when she saw her. 

Tracy set a white-winged mug with some sort of sweet-smelling tea in front of Crowley, who had never asked what was actually  _ in _ the tea. The older woman sat down with a floral mug, “Good. Any reason to come in today?”

“Do I need a reason to see you?”

“No,” she stirred her tea slowly, “I was just curious. Oh! Goodness, I have something for you, be back in a tic.” With the swish of her robe, Madame Tracy rushed up the creaky stairs. 

Crowley shifted in her chair, putting one leg on the armrest. “What are you looking at?” she asked a marble bust of Medusa, who was sporting a pair of smoked lens glasses. The spinster grabbed the glasses delicately with her long fingers, careful of the thin metal legs. 

“Ah, there they are,” said Madame Tracy. Crowley shot a foot in the air and turned to Tracy, “I thought I had them upstairs. I thought you’d like them, since you’re always complaining about the sun, go, put them on.” Crowley followed instructions and Madame Tracy became less of a bright eyesore, “Oh, dearie, you look wonderful!”

“I have to go, Tracy, I’m meeting my friend, I’ll be late soon,” she got up from her seat and walked to the door, “I’ll see you later.”

“Come back soon, bring your friend! And Warlock! I haven’t seen him in so long.”

“Will do.”

She was late. Well, not  _ late _ but Crowley was normally here earlier. Maybe she had decided not to come, judging by the dark clouds coming over. As a general rule, there were only storms within a mile of Aziraphale’s tree a few times a year, the clouds avoided her and the area. The rain and snow and sun every year were enough for the tree and everything around it to thrive. This year was the best year it had been in a long time, the apples were sweeter than they had been last week, juicier, rounder, and there were even tiny pink blossoms on the higher branches.

In order to understand Aziraphale’s little bubble, I think it necessary to describe it some more. The forest around it is thick, in every sense of the word. The trees are tall, with trunks nearly too big to wrap your arms around, and all of the trees are covered in moss. They encompass the apple tree in an almost perfect circle, their leaves grew towards the center of the clearing, shading the moss and rocks and flowers of every season and part of the world in dappled sunlight. A small herd of sheep meanders around all day, unbothered by predators. 

Often, there are other animals, like foxes and deer, squirrels, rabbits, all of which will come up to Aziraphale when she sits down for a pet, or some food, or just to lay near her and be in her presence. The one place there are no trees is the nearby river, it sits below a very short cliff, so short you would hardly call it that. The rocks have been softened by wind and the stepping of feet for centuries, they form a natural staircase down to the clean river. On warm days, Aziraphale liked to take her dress off and go for a swim, wash her hair (which was never truly dirty).

A recent addition to the scenery was a beaten path where Crowley had been coming and going. The plants had started growing away from it to clear the way for her. When things like that happened, and they weren’t often, Aziraphale wondered if the plants had thoughts, or if she was accidentally controlling them. 

A doe approached Aziraphale, nuzzling her nose beneath the nymph’s hand, “Hello, darling,” the doe leaned into her touch and closed her eyes. “Would you help me collect flowers for Crowley?” The doe didn’t respond.

The flowers in Aziraphale’s area were always in bloom, except sometimes when they weren’t, normally when she had human men around. Well, when they forced themselves into her space, she never wanted them around. But now they were all flourishing. The lavender, the violets, chrysanthemums, lupines, lilies, daisies, bleeding hearts, all over, all at the most vibrant they could be. 

“I haven’t done this in a while,” she said as she picked violets and lavender to weave into a crown. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> catch me googling "wlw flowers"


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy crowley waking up day

Aziraphale tucked the flower crown behind her back when she heard a noise in the thicket. She smiled, her cheeks turned pink and she tightened the blanket around her shoulders.

“Hey, angel,” said Crowley. She’d let her hair down, it was fuller than Aziraphale had thought it would be, shiny. 

“Hello, dearest.”

“Sorry I’m late, I met with a friend.” Aziraphale did not like those new dark glasses she had- they looked nice on Crowley, they framed her face well, but they shielded her honey eyes. 

Aziraphale shook her head, “Oh, no, there was no set time. You are perfectly tickety-boo.”

“Tickety-boo?” Crowley over-enunciated.

“Yes, quite,” Aziraphale looked down at her feet, “Anyways, I have something for you.” Crowley looked up expectantly over her glasses. “Close your eyes.” Aziraphale took a few gentle steps forward to place the crown atop her copper hair. She had been right, the shades of purple did compliment it very well. “And open! Whaaaa!” That last bit was less of a word and more of an excited exhale from her mouth accompanied by waving hands and wide blue eyes.

“Oh, Aziraphale, violets shouldn’t even be growing this time of year.”

The nymph frowned, “You don’t like it?”

“N-no! I love it! It’s beautiful,” Crowley gingerly patted the flowers on her head. Aziraphale decidedly did not see pink rise in the freckled cheeks of her new friend. 

“I thought you would like it. Those flowers will never wilt, you know- erm- hopefully they never will. I haven’t tested it outside my area,” she sat down on a rock, Crowley followed suit nearby. 

“Speaking of which- I have a question.”

“Hm?”

“How far from the forest can you go?”

Aziraphale thought for a moment, “I’ve never tried leaving,” she said simply, “No reason for me to.”

Crowley’s hand inched towards Aziraphale’s, “You should come into town sometime. With me- you’d like it, I think.”

“I think I would.”

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and Aziraphale startled like a small deer away from Crowley. The beginnings of rain started to come down on the forest and the animals rushed to dry places. The way Crowley shrank into her jacket told her companion that she did not want to get wet, something Aziraphale had never particularly minded.

An apple nearly fell on Aziraphale’s head as the branches above her shifted, overlapping one another.  _ Pit pat pitter pat _ went the rain on the leaves, but the ground beneath remained dry. The nymph gestured for Crowley to come into the shelter. 

“I suppose I have to stay awhile,” Crowley said awkwardly, and sat against the tree’s trunk. “If I walked back in this,” she gestured in the general direction of the rain, “I’ll be soaked to the bone.”

“You would, rather,” Aziraphale sat beside her, swaddled in the blanket Crowley had given her.

They sat in silence, listening to the rain for hours as it poured down. There wasn’t much to talk about. It felt like they had gotten all of their talking out in the last few days.

“Thank you,” Crowley finally turned to look at Aziraphale, “by the way. You’re an angel.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You made a shelter for me, with your,” Crowley wiggled her fingers, “Magicks.”

“I don’t have,” Aziraphale imitated the gesture, “Magicks, or whatever that means.”

“Whatever you say, angel.”

Aziraphale sat up, “Why do you call me that?”

“Simple. When I first saw you- I thought you were an angel. Your hair is so white it glows and you just- ngh- you look like an angel.”

“Oh- oh thank you.”

“You know,” Crowley moved closer to Aziraphale, “Warlock has been asking about you. He thinks you’re my secret boyfriend.”

“I need to come meet him then, I think.”

“You need to come into town to do a lot of things. Speaking of Warlock, I probably need to get home, he’s gonna be worried and I don’t think the rain will let up anytime soon.”

“O-of course you do- I’ll send some energy to the trees with my Magicks,” she giggled. Crowley had a feeling she would never get used to that smile. The way her eyes crinkled at the sides, and her eyes twinkled no matter the light. The sound of her laughter was perfect, too. It didn’t sound like a bird chirping, but it made your head feel the same way. It was just  _ something _ .

Crowley smiled, “Thank you, angel.”

“There you are!” Warlock said, Beelzebub purring in his lap. “I was starting to get worried,” he muttered, shrinking in on himself.

Crowley shut the door and kicked her muddy boots off, “Aw, you missed me?” She hung her soaked jacket on the metal rack by the fire, which was all embers now. Warlock had a habit of letting it die, he was afraid to touch it. 

“Shut up.”

“I’m sorry I’m late, kiddo, I didn’t want to get soaked and then I didn’t want to leave you alone all night,” she wandered into the kitchen, “You know if you need someplace to go that you can go to the Youngs, right?”

“Yeah, I know.”

She bit into a pear, “It’s late, you should go get ready for bed.”

“Yessir.”

There was no reason to see Aziraphale today. No excuse, there had been no “see you tomorrow”. It’d be rude to not go and see her, right? Friends see each other without arrangements all the time.

“You’ve been gone a lot,” Warlock remarked over breakfast, “I’ve hardly seen you.”

“‘M sorry, I’ll make it up to you.”

“That’s what dad would’ve said.”

Crowley’s stomach sank, she sounded like her dad, “Are you doing anything today? I’ll make it up to you right now.”

Warlock shifted in his seat, the one wonky leg of his chair bumped against the floor, “Me and Them were gonna go build a fort,” he played with a strand of his hair, “I was gonna steal your tools.”

“Well, first off, you don’t have to steal them, just ask, and second of all, would They mind if I came along?”

His eyes lit up, a rare sight that made Crowley’s heart melt, “They’d love it!”

“Guys! Toni’s gonna help us build the fort!” Warlock struggled with Crowley’s heavy bag for a second before she picked it up and easily slung it over her shoulder.

“Alright,” said Adam, “C’mon, then.” The blonde boy led the group into the forest, Dog at his heels. Only a short walk and Crowley was led under a giant fallen tree covered in mushrooms. There was already an old hammock hanging from two nearby trees, and a massive ditch dug in the middle that Crowley nearly fell inside.

“We need to build some walls and a roof,” Pepper pulled an attempt at blueprint from her bright red jacket and handed it to Crowley.

Brian nodded and smiled, dirt somehow already smudged on his face, “Yeah, and then we’re gonna cover it dirt and it’ll be hidden from the grown-ups.”

Wensleydale, a bespectacled boy who likely didn’t even have a first name as Crowley had never heard it raised an eyebrow, “But  _ she _ is a grown-up.”

Adam considered this fact for a moment, “Yes, but she’s one of the good ones,” he said matter-of-factly, the way Adam said most things, “She’s not a mum or dad.”

“Or Mr.Tyler,” added Pepper.

“Exactly.”

“This might take a few days to build, you guys,” the spinster looked over the crude blueprints, she was sure They were smart enough to build something like this on their own, she was more worried about Them getting hurt, “Unless we start getting to work earlier. And you all have school starting soon.”

“We’ll come out here to study!” Wensleydale suggested, the rest of Them didn’t seem very sure about that.

“And we’ll get up earlier tomorrow morning,” said Brian. He didn’t look like he meant it.

Crowley looked over Their faces, “Alright, then, go- get all the wood I know you have stashed and we can get working.”

“Yeah!” They yelled.

Warlock tugged on his sister’s sleeve “D’you have another hair tie?”

“Yeah. But you need a haircut,” she teased, ruffling his hair.

“I like it this length.”

Crowley shrugged, “It’s your hair.”

Her brother tugged his hair into a low ponytail and rolled up his sleeves, “Thank you, by the way. For helping.”

Before he could threaten her to not tell anyone he had said that (he had a  _ reputation _ , thank you very much), Crowley smiled, “No problem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i will repeat a joke i made in one of the servers of enablers for this fic "i don't know what kind of trees are in the forest around aziraphale but there's definitely some pines"


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here there be the mildest of angst

Where was Crowley? It was noon, or thereabouts. They hadn’t made arrangements to see each other again, there was no reason for her to be here. Aziraphale sighed and pulled her thin dress off and padded down the natural stone steps and slipped into the water. It was always the perfect temperature to swim in, it always had been. She sank her head under the water.

A long time ago, if Aziraphale had opened her eyes she would have seen her friends. They’d all gone now, either married off to a human or faded away in the river, new flowers sprouting up on the riverbed.

The river had a habit of bringing lost things to Aziraphale, she normally left them in there, she had no use for them. Necklaces, rings, utensils, the occasional wet piece of clothing. If she left them they’d disappear eventually. 

Something shone in the smooth rocks below, Aziraphale sank deeper into the water and picked it up. 

A silver snake pendant. It was simple, the snake hung by the tip of its tail, its eyes had fallen out of their sockets, they had clearly been tiny gems of some sort at one point. 

She thought about how it would look on Crowley and pouted. 

Aziraphale knew full well she was being dramatic. People go a day without seeing each other all the time, right? They were friends, they didn’t have to have to see one another every day. That would be ridiculous. 

But, in the past, every human Aziraphale had met would disappear one day and never return. 

Men would come to her tree and profess undying love for her, ask for her hand in marriage, she had gotten tired of it. One man had come to Aziraphale very day for a week, bringing her a new gift every day, a rose, a ring, et-cetera. By the end of the week he had almost demanded she come down from her high branch and out of the forest with him to have his children. She had told him to come back the next day, and he found her laying at the bottom of the river, presuming that she had drowned. When, as a matter of fact, she could be underwater for hours if she so pleased, though it could make her feel a bit light-headed. x

She was very good at driving people away. 

She breached the surface of the water and sat on a rock nearby that let her shoulders be out of the water. She wrestled with the old clasp on the pendant and put it around her neck. When- if- Crowley came back she could give it to her. 

Not too far from where Aziraphale had started to cry softly, Crowley was helping her little brother and Them build a fort. They had already found a lot of stones and clay in and around the river to make a stone floor and walls. Apparently they had done the floor yesterday, it was nearly all dry, so Crowley rolled up her sleeves and made trips back and forth with Pepper and Warlock while the others plastered new walls into the ditch. It was roughly a six by six cube, enough room for five eleven year olds and a dog, Crowley supposed. 

“How long have you all been working on this?” Crowley loaded some more clay into the bucket she had been given.

Pepper bit her lip in thought, “A week?”

“You’re a lot more driven than I was when I was your age,” Crowley thought about what she had been doing when she was a teenager. Hiding out in the woods smoking and kissing boys. They had all been awful at it, and their lips were always dry and crusty. Her mind did  _ not _ drift to Aziraphale’s lips and how soft they always looked and the way they curled when she smiled. No, her mind did not want her to think about a woman she hardly knew while she was trying to spend time with her brother. 

Crowley realized she preferred the fairer sex when Peter Bowman got a hand into her trousers in the woods behind the library. But she hadn’t quite accepted it. She would look at women from afar, but she held back on pursuing them. If she was going to pursue any woman it would not be the only female friend she’d made in the past five years. Or the only friend she’d made in five years, period. Yes, she had Anathema and, by extent, Newt who always followed her around like a frightened puppy, and Tracy. She got along fine with the other children’s parents, but she was a lot younger than them and they mostly didn’t approve of her being single with Warlock in her care. They never said it but she could feel it whenever they asked her about it. 

She had accepted long ago that she would just be a spinster for the rest of her life, doing odd jobs to keep her and Warlock afloat. She did art commissions, she was a gardener for hire, she could fix furniture, clothes, all sorts of things, but she was never  _ employed  _ anywhere, so money was never a guarantee. Madame Tracy hired her on occasion to clean her shop that was almost permanently covered in a thin coating of dust, or to fix some old and broken items, and she did love Crowley’s paintings.

While the kids finished making the walls (eleven-year-olds could work very fast if they wanted to), Crowley started to make them a trapdoor for their wooden roof. They had made a very lackluster one that Crowley knew would collapse with any more rain and had no door. Warlock came to sit beside her. “What do you need a fort for, anyway?” She asked him.

“Spot to hang out, nobody can tell us what to do out here,” Adam replied in Warlock’s place.

“Adam you’ve got clay on your face.” He had smeared it all over his forehead in an attempt to get some of his blonde curls out of his eyes.

“Do I?”

Brian nodded, he had it all over his clothes, but that was what tended to happen when Brian was around substances that can get on your clothes, “All over your face.”

“It’s all over  _ your _ face,” Wensleydale pointed out, his clothes somehow perfectly clean save for the spot on his trousers.

“It’s on everyone, just keep working and we’ll all go home soon, I’m sure you all swore to be home for dinner,” Crowley hammered two wooden boards together.

“Mum’s making fish, I don’t want any,” Pepper frowned, “I don’t like fish.”

“You like whales,” Brian pointed out.

Wensleydale pushed up his glasses, “Whales aren’t fish. They’re mammals, quite smart actually.”

“If they’re so smart what are they doing in the ocean all day?” Pepper argued, “Just swimming, and eating, and singing an- oh my god  _ I _ want to be a whale.”

“You could come eat dinner at ours, Pepper” Warlock offered, “We’re having something better than fish, right?” Crowley nodded, she didn’t know what they were having but she herself hated seafood, and even her mediocre cooking was better.

Aziraphale sat on the blanket Crowley had given her by the riverbed, staring at her reflection in the water. 

“You’re being dramatic,” she said to it, “Crowley probably has responsibilities and things to do other than walking all this way to get to  _ you _ .” 

She felt lousy. The sun was starting to set and she was getting cold. Last week she would sit out all night watching the stars, she had nothing to do and she didn’t mind that, she was alone but she didn’t mind it. Now, just one day by herself left a pit in her stomach she hadn’t felt in a long time.

The nymph grumbled and wrapped herself in the blanket, trying to cling to the smell of cinnamon on it. Her mind did  _ not _ drift to the thought of her new friend and the way she had smelt of cinnamon when she brought Aziraphale that pie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aziraphale is so dramatic i love her but shes also an idiot


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two days together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk why ive been more motivated to write this fic than i have been motivated for anything in a while

Aziraphale sat on a rock in the river that let her keep her head out of the water and sighed, toying with her pendant. The sun was rising, reflecting on the water’s surface. She listened to the birds loudly singing to each other high in the trees and on the ground. 

“Aziraphale?”

The blonde leapt in the air and fell into the water in surprise, “Crowley!” She climbed onshore and picked her dress up.

“Ngk, angel you’re naked,” Crowley slapped a delicate hand over her eyes as she had on the first day. Aziraphale silently thanked whoever was up there that her companion hadn’t brought the dark glasses today while she slipped her sheer dress on. 

“You’re back!”

“‘Course I’m back, I just spent the day with Warlock.”

“Oh, oh dear I was overreacting,” Aziraphale brushed out her hair with her hands, “Normally when people leave it’s forever.”

Crowley’s heart sank, “Oh-I’m sorry, I didn’t plan on not showing up- I just had to make it up to Warlock for being gone.”

“No-n-no, it’s perfectly fine. Tickety-boo.” She told Crowley the stories of her suitors and got a good laugh. A  _ good _ laugh. One that made all the butterflies in Aziraphale’s stomach flutter even more than normal. 

They sat beneath the tree, discussing their experiences with people in the past. The time Crowley had seen a boy make a complete fool of himself when he tried to give Pepper a rose and she got mad at him for assuming that just because she was a girl she would like a pink flower. Years and years ago when two men had fought over one of Aziraphale’s naiad friends, she had denied them both and instead pulled Aziraphale into an embrace and kissed her cheek. 

“Just the cheek though, that scared them away all well and good,” Aziraphale smiled fondly, “I miss her, sometimes. You remind me of her.”

“Do I?”

“Her name was Raphaelle, you two have almost the same hair, hers was longer, more orange. She seldom left the water, she always invited me in to go swimming, she helped me learn.”

The pair had moved to sit on the warm rocks by the river, Aziraphale slightly above Crowley, Crowley sprawled out in a way that looked incredibly uncomfortable. The spinster moved her hand up on the rock Aziraphale sat on, absentmindedly playing with the ends of her dress between her fingertips. 

“You get lonely out here, huh,” her hands moved up a bit to rest on her friend’s knee. Aziraphale startled and moved her leg away, cheeks pink. Crowley withdrew her hands immediately, “Angel- I’m sorry- I wasn’t-“

“Perfectly alright, my dear, I was just- erm- startled.”

They sat in awkward silence for a few moments, staring at the shimmering water, Aziraphale toyed with her pendant.

“Oh! I almost forgot,” the nymph unclasped the silver chain, and held it out to her friend, “I found this in the river, and I thought you would like it.” Crowley held her hair up and turned around, gesturing for Aziraphale to put it on her.

After a few seconds of struggling, the pendant was on and Crowley turned to show it off, “Oh, angel, I love it. Thank you.” The thickness in the air dissipated and they both smiled wide.

“I’m glad you like it.”

Crowley, some confidence back, leaned back a bit, “Tell me about Raphaelle.”

Aziraphale started to go on about her friend. She and Raphaelle had been very close, they sat together all day long. Once, a lyre had washed up in the river and they both learned to play it, Raphaelle had been better, admittedly.

They would sit around, mostly naked, on the warm rocks, telling stories that they made up, stories they’d read, and stories they’d lived. They swam together and held hands and would sleep side by side. Never anything more than that, there was a hesitance in their relationship. 

All of the nymphs around them were very touchy, very affectionate toward one another, always saying “I love you” and complimenting each other’s hair, but it was never exclusive. The way Raphaelle pressed her forehead against Aziraphale’s and whispered to her beneath the stars was different.

“It sounds like you two were very close,” Crowley said after a moment, “If you don’t mind my asking, how did she pass?”

“We were. And she got sick, like everyone else here,” Aziraphale said, her big doe eyes watering, “She was the last one left.”

“Hn, Aziraphale, I’m sorry,” Crowley couldn’t find any words other than that, “I’ve said that a lot, I’m sorry,” she laughed.

Aziraphale wiped her eyes and giggled, there was that smile, “Don’t apologize for apologizing. You have nothing to be sorry for. I should be apologizing, rather, I’m rambling on.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon on the warm rocks telling stories that they made up, stories they’d read, and stories they’d lived. Aziraphale’s cheeks hurt from smiling so much, and her heart ached as she watched Crowley saunter away, promising that she wouldn’t leave forever and sometimes she needed to spend time with others, and she would be back soon. 

  
  


Crowley ventured out to see Aziraphale nearly every day for the next month, keeping a respectable distance since their last encounter; today she came bearing gifts. Er-gift, truly. A bottle of wine and two glasses. 

Aziraphale was already spreading out the blanket for them to sit on in the shade of a tree. 

“What do we have today?” 

“Alcohol.”

Aziraphale sat up and clapped lightly, “Ooo, I haven’t had alcohol in so long.”

“Well, then let me tempt you to a glass,” Crowley sat down and poured way too much of the wine into a glass and passed it to her friend. 

“Why thank you, my dear,” she took a dramatic sip.

It didn’t take long for the two of them to drink the whole bottle, they sprawled out on the ground giggling.

“So- Warlock was li’  _ eight _ ,” Crowley hiccuped, “An’ he was out wi’ Them and- and they find this cat. Pepper’s mum’s allergic, Wensley can’ have any pets, Adam wan’s a dog an’ Brian- I dunno Brian’s-“ she searched for a word and sat up, Aziraphale following suit, “reason. But, anyways, Warlock comes home with a lil ball of fur. And dirt, and whatever else. Prob’ly piss.”

Aziraphale poked her on the arm, “Don’t be crass.”

“‘S true! Smelt awful,” she tried to pour more wine in her glass but Aziraphale has the last drops of it still in hers, “Anyway, he wanted me to help him wash it. Still have the scars from the bastard scratchin’ me,” she rolled up her sleeves to show Aziraphale, “See?”

“Oh dear,” she held Crowley’s arm to look at it, “I see why he’s called Beez-Bel-Beelz’bub.”

“I di’n’t even name him that, Warlock’s idea. Prince of Hell,” she waved her fingers around.

“Did-“ Aziraphale hiccuped, only she could make that sort of thing cute, “D’you let him keep him?”

“I would’ve told ‘im to get rid of it if he didn’t make his dumb pleading face,” she imitated the face he made, wide eyes, brows knit together, lower lip trembling, “An’ I told him we would feed the cat and he could come inside sometimes. But he doesn’t  _ live _ with us.”

Aziraphale laughed, “Sure,” she nodded and rolled her eyes, “Sounds like he does.”

“Warlock’s  _ real _ good at gettin’ what he wants.”

“I think,” Aziraphale leaned closer and shielded Crowley from the gold of the setting sun, “It’s just because you’re just a nice person.”

“‘M not nice,” she moved so the tips of their noses touched to get her point across, “I’m never nice.”

Aziraphale pressed her forehead to Crowley’s, “You are nice! Nicest person I’ve ever met!”

“You haven’t met many people,” the redhead pointed out and laid back down. 

“Fair. But you  _ are _ nice.”

“I am not.”

“Whatever you say.”

Crowley rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I don’t think I can go home tonight,” she grumbled. It had been a few hours since they had drunk all the wine but they were both exhausted, their sides hurt and their eyelids were heavy. 

“What about Warlock?”

“He’ll be fine, he’s at Adam’s t’night.”

“Oh.” Had she anticipated staying the night? Did she think they’d be doing-  _ things _ ? Not that Aziraphale had any problem with that, in theory, but in practice. That was a different story, she had no experience. 

“Is that alright?”

“Yes, of course. Will you be fine on the ground?”

“‘S all soft here, I’ll be fine.”

“You should braid your hair,” Aziraphale suggested, “it might get tangled otherwise.”

“Never learned how, no sisters, mum gone all the time.”

Aziraphale moved to sit behind her friend, “Let me, then.” Crowley sighed and let Aziraphale brush out her hair with her fingers. She split it into thirds and slowly, carefully, braided the red locks. 

Crowley melted into the touch. Something about it felt so intimate. She was hugged by Warlock often, Madame Tracy didn’t shy away from physical affection, even kisses on the cheek or forehead, but this was different. Aziraphale finished off the braid and tied it with a hair tie from Crowley’s wrist. She leaned back until her head rested on Aziraphale’s soft stomach. 

“Hello, dear,” Aziraphale said softly with a fond smile. 

“Hey angel.”

“What are you doing?”

“You’re soft. Living pillow.” Crowley did not comment how soft her lips look and how badly she wanted to find out, so she just smirked up at her friend. 

“Oh, why, thank you.” Aziraphale shifted and laid her back against her tree, not moving Crowley’s head, just letting her lay there. 

The moon was coming out, painting everything silver, the way you only see in paintings or read in books. The wine left in their systems lulled them to sleep.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> from this point we're gonna hop around time-wise, hope you don't mind


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two days together and a day apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i keep intending to post chapters before i go to bed but i get distracted playing animal crossing lol

The morning after Aziraphale and Crowley napped under the tree, Crowley wriggled out from beneath her friend’s warm arms, cheeks bright red, and laid on the ground. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, staring intently at Aziraphale.

“Good morning, dearest,” Aziraphale sat up, brushing her hair out of what remained of her braid.

“Morning, angel.”

Aziraphale stood up slowly, stretching her pale arms,“You can swim, correct?”

“‘Course I can, why?”

“We should go swimming.”

“Isn’t it a bit cold for that?” Crowley exaggerated her point by rubbing her hands together.

Aziraphale shrugged, she was already heading for the water, her dress came off and was thrown onto a rock. Crowley’s cheeks darkened as she pulled her boots off, too-tight trousers to follow. She would have kept her undergarments on, but they would be best to remain dry. Typically, Crowley didn’t care much about her body, if someone saw her, they saw her, but something about Aziraphale’s presence made her hesitant to unbutton her shirt. 

The water was warmer than she expected, warmer than the air around her, even. Like sinking into a bath. She dipped her head under the miraculously clear water and resurfaced much closer to Aziraphale than intended. She had taken her white hair from its braid. Her hair was not white in the way an old person’s hair was white, rather the opposite, her hair made her look even younger. Crowley suspected if she was a brunette she could be aged several years.

“‘S warmer than I thought,” Crowley commented, her cheeks warm for different reasons. 

“I love swimming out here. It helps me clear my head.”

“What do you have fogging up your head?”

Aziraphale swam backward to float on her back, “Not certain. I clear it away,” she dipped her head under the water, “See? Clear of all things fogging up my mind.” Aziraphale’s mind was immediately fogged with the image of a nude Crowley smiling at her, and it would be for the next year. No matter how many dips she took in the water.

“Hallo, dear,” Aziraphale chirped one spring morning when Crowley came to sit next to her by the flowers, she closed her book, marking it with a leaf that would never wilt unless she willed it to. 

“What are you reading?”

“A poetry book you gave me,” Aziraphale toyed with a page.

“I thought you read all the books I gave you,” Crowley laid down, careful not to crush any flowers. She pushed her pair of dark glasses up her nose to shield her from the late morning sun coming through the trees.

“I have. However, I’ve come to find Emily Dickinson is a favorite of mine.”

“Why don’t you read to me?”

“I think you can read yourself,” Aziraphale laughed softly.

Crowley did the best shrug she could from her place on the ground, “Humor me, angel.”

Aziraphale cleared her throat dramatically, the birds paused their singing for her to prepare. 

“ _ Her breast is fit for pearls _ ,

_ But I was not a “Diver”-  _ “ Aziraphale looked up for Crowley’s approval. One of her sheep walked over slowly and laid his head in her lap.

“ _ Her brow is fit for thrones _

_ But I have not a crest. _

_ Her heart is fit for home- _

_ I- a sparrow- build there”  _

A sparrow in the trees sang it’s approval.

“ _ Sweet of twigs and twine _

_ My perennial nest, _ ” Aziraphale closed the book with a flourish and, to her delight, Crowley clapped quietly with her hands above her head.

“I love your voice, angel,” she sighed, “I could listen to it all day.”

Aziraphale blushed and leaned over her friend, “Thank you, Crowley, dear.”

“Read me another,” she demanded, sounding much like a younger Warlock demanding  _ Peter Pan _ or  _ Winnie the Pooh _ , or a made up story. 

“Tell me the one with the angel and the demon in the garden,” he would order her, “And make them kiss this time.”

“Maybe they kiss when you’re not listening,” Crowley would reply.

Warlock would cross his little arms, “That’s no fair.”

“Life’s not fair, kiddo.”

So, Aziraphale read poems at random aloud to Crowley until the sun set and she had to saunter away.

“I bid thee goodnight,” Aziraphale called. 

“Don’t start talking all old-timey on me, you’re already strange enough.”

“I would never dream of it, my dearest.”

“Bastard!”

They both laughed and waved at one another and Crowley actually headed for home. 

“Crowley, dear, it’s been months since you said you would bring your new friend in,” Madame Tracy almost forcibly pulled Crowley into her shop of oddities, “Where is she?”

“Sorry, I keep forgetting. I’ll talk to her next I see her, swear.”

Tracy cocked a well-groomed eyebrow, “Dearie. You and I  _ both _ know your swears mean nothing. Sit down, I’ll make you some tea.” Crowley followed orders and sat, staring at the same bust of Medusa that she had taken her glasses from months ago. What a wonder nobody had bought the terrifying statue yet. 

“How’s everything, Majorie?”

“Tracy to you, only Mister S gets to call me Majorie,” there was the familiar clanging of the tea kettle and spoons and mugs in the kitchen, “But I’m doing wonderfully. I see you are, too. Spring in your step.”

“Do I?” Crowley sprawled out in her seat.

“Oh yes, I haven’t seen you so happy in a good while. I have to meet the miracle worker that’s done it.”

“She’s not a miracle worker,” Crowley sighed, “Just a good friend.”

Tracy set a hot mug down in front of her, “Bring her around sometime. Please?”

“I will, don’t worry.”

“You’ll have to do it soon, I think I’m running out of time!” Tracy made a big show of sitting in her big ugly armchair. 

“You are not,” Crowley scoffed, “You’re sixty-three.”

Tracy cut off her sip of tea to correct Crowley, “Sixty-two!”

“You are not dying,” she sipped her tea as firmly as one could sip tea, spitting out the leaves that entered her mouth, “Out of teabags?”

“Hm? Oh, no, I have plenty but I’m going to read your fortune.”

“Are you?”

“Yes, give me the cup.”

“I’m not finished, wait a sec,” Crowley took another sip of her tea, sweeter than normal, but she hardly minded. Tracy had made several bright red stains on the rim of her mug, as was tradition. Even if she was drinking from a red mug, her lipstick was always a different color and it always made a stain. It made it very easy to tell which mug was hers. 

“Okay, give me your cup,” Tracy grabbed the mug for herself and sloshed what remained of the tea at the bottom. 

“Will I die a horrible death?”

“Shh! I’m trying to concentrate!” she waved her manicured hands about, staring intently into Crowley’s mug, “I see… a snake and an axe.”

“Looks like a line and a blob to me.”

Tracy pulled her head closer to the mug, “Look there,” she pointed to a spot where the line was slightly bigger, “that’s the head of the snake, and there,” she pointed to another line, “is the handle of the axe. And that’s the blade.”

“And what does that mean?”

Tracy blinked slowly, “I don’t know. I’m new to this method.”

“And you can’t go using it on customers until you’ve tested on me,” Crowley guessed.

“Exactly!”

“Give me the gist then. Any days I should avoid? Colors I should wear?”

Tracy looked her up and down through her massive false eyelashes, “Wear more red.”

“Is that because of what you saw or a fashion suggestion,” Crowley deadpanned.

“Yes,” she replied simply. Crowley sighed and got up to leave. “Wait! You’ve hardly been here and you still haven’t brought your friend in. Tell me about how Warlock is doing, I haven’t properly seen him in ages.”

She did as she was told and went on about Warlock spending nearly all his free time with Them in their fort (which had turned out very well), he had taken furniture from his room to furnish the place. Crowley assumed the other children had as well, Deidre had been complaining about missing an old kettle last week. 

“Bring him around soon,” Tracy called when Crowley was finally able to leave. 

Crowley sighed, “So many people to bring in.”

“Oh just! Come see your aunt more often!”

“You aren’t my aunt, you’re my father’s cousin.”

Tracy considered this, “I’m your aunt.”

“See you soon, auntie,” she shut the door louder than intended and headed home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *john mulaney voice* i think emily dickinson's a lesbian


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley meets with a friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dont really like this chapter but i feel like i just need to get something out

“A.J Crowley get back here,” Anathema commanded, “I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

Crowley stopped and turned on her heel, “Ana I’m going to meet someone.” She was unofficially late, a habit she should probably shake. 

“Too bad, you’re coming with me,” Anathema grabbed Crowley by the wrist and started to drag her in the direction of the forest. 

“I’m not dancing naked in the moonlight with you.”

“It’s nine in the morning and I don’t do that,” Anathema huffed. She pushed her glasses up with her pointer finger. Crowley would never tell her this to her face, but she had always thought the shape of the glasses made her friend look like an owl, her feathery hair and big brown eyes did not help the aesthetic. 

“Where the hell are we even going?” Crowley groaned while Anathema moved her metal rods around. 

“Graveyard. I need dirt.”

“There’s dirt everywhere,” Crowley kicked the ground to emphasize her point, “There’s probably dirt in my pockets!” She turned her pockets inside out, sure enough, some dirt fell out. Last year, she would have cared more about her clothes getting dirty, but now she would just throw her jacket onto a dirty rock on a warm day to go swimming with Aziraphale in the river.

“Well  _ this  _ dirt is different.”

“How?”

“It just is. I would rather have some and not need it than need some and not have it,” she said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, a way Anathema often spoke. 

“And there’s a graveyard out here?”

“Abandoned church. I go to collect moss and things. The town around it is old and abandoned, the forest has taken it back, but the church and graveyard are still there.”

Crowley cringed, “I don’t like churches.”

“Worried you’ll burst into flame?”

“Something like that.” 

Crowley went to church with her parents when she was younger, she’d never been able to sit still with all the statues and stained glass windows and paintings staring down at her. She’d sneak out to sit behind the church and smoke with her friends. She remembered getting dared to kiss Hastur and how badly he’d tasted like he’d eaten pure tobacco and something else. Flies, probably. 

Anathema knelt to fill her jar with dirt from the first plot they found. 

“Did you know-“ Crowley leaned over to read the inscription on the headstone;  **Here Lies: Eden Michaels, beloved friend and author** , “Eden Michaels?” 

“No. They died thirty years ago,” Anathema sealed the jar and put it in her green coat’s pocket.

“How do you think they died?”

Anathema shrugged, “I don’t know. Heart failure?”

“You’re no fun. I think-“ Crowley thought for a moment, “I think they were brutally murdered- by their best friend.”

“How, and why?”

“Pushed off a roof,“ Crowley bit her lip, thinking of all the reasons she had wanted to kill people, “For chewing with their mouth open.”

“Sounds pretty solid to me.”

The bell in Madame Tracy’s shop rang out to alert the shopkeep that she had two guests. 

“Morning,” she called from the back, where she always seemed to be, “I’ll be right out.”

“It’s almost noon, Tracy.”

“Anathema!” Madame Tracy popped out of nowhere, “So good to see you, dear.” They were ushered to the back of the shop, with tea somehow already being made. “Are you and that boy Newton still talking?”

“Uh, yes,” Anathema pushed her glasses up, “Have you met him?”

“No,” Tracy said simply, “You should bring him in sometime. I can make dinner and invite Mister Shadwell over,” she turned to Crowley, “And Crowley can bring her friend-“

“Aziraphale.”

Tracy smiled, “Aziraphale.”

Crowley did most certainly blush while she told her friends about Aziraphale and the way she sounded when she read Emily Dickinson, and the way her hair bounced on her shoulders. She didn’t go into detail about the sparkle in her eyes when she got excited, or the way the birds sang around her.

“Bring her by. Tomorrow,” Madame Tracy insisted. When Madame Tracy insists on something there’s no way to get around it, ever. She found some way to get you to do it, somehow.

“She’ll have to agree to it first,” Crowley hadn’t expected the old shop keep to pester her so much. Though she supposed Tracy could be getting bored with Shadwell constantly ignoring her advances. Maybe he was just senile, unable to notice Tracy’s very obvious flirting. Crowley had no idea what Tracy saw in that man. Maybe his large hands. But those hands were covered in calluses and had dirt permanently under the nails. 

“Good afternoon, Crowley!” Aziraphale called, she was laying on a high branch in her tree, pink petals from the apple blossoms had fallen on the ground around her, some in her hair. 

“Hey, angel.”

She gracefully climbed out of the tree, “Anything bringing you here today, darling?”

Crowley’s heart pinched her chest, “Do I need an excuse?”

“No,” Aziraphale smiled softly, it was such a wonderful smile, “It’s just- normally you come here in the mornings, it’s afternoon.”

Oh, thank goodness. “I was with some friends. Who-uha they want to meet you.”

“C-can we even do that?”

“I dunno- have you ever left,” Crowley gestured around them, “Here?”

“I never tried. But I would want to, I think,” she took Crowley’s hand, an unexpected move from both of them, “If I had you with me- to- erm- make sure I’m alright. A-and show me around town.”

Crowley squeezed her friend’s hand, “I would like that.”

No matter the time of year, Aziraphale’s tree was always somehow in bloom and with perfectly ripe apples. Crowley took this to her advantage and picked one from a low hanging branch, she took a small knife from the sheath on her thigh and cut a slice off and bit into it. 

Crowley sat down on the soft mossy ground, Aziraphale joined her and put a hand on her knee, turning pinker than the petals in her hair. 

She stole slices of Crowley’s apple as she cut them, sitting almost uncomfortably close until the apple’s core was thrown to a nearby elk. Which, as far as Crowley knew, were extinct. 

“I’ll be back tomorrow morning, you can borrow some of my clothes and then we can get you some actual ones before we go to Madame Tracy’s,” Crowley groaned as she stood up and popped her back.

“Well, I’ll see you then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this chapter was a bit short, this plot is progressing faster than i originally planned it to but my mind goes 1,000 miles a minute


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trip to town

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i told you id update faster than last time

Aziraphale was having trouble sleeping again. Part of it was excitement to go out with Crowley, the other part was nervousness to leave the place she had lived for centuries, even if it was only a day. 

The smell on the blanket Crowley had given her was fading, and the thought of borrowing her clothes made her stomach knot. Hopefully, Crowley would bring some larger clothes, those pants were tight even on her small frame, Aziraphale doubted they’d fit her.

“Morning, angel.”

Aziraphale’s stomach fluttered, “Hello, Crowley.”

“I brought you a dress, I thought it was- more your style,” Crowley handed Aziraphale a deep blue dress and turned around, gesturing for her to put it on. Aziraphale slipped out of her sheer gown and pulled the blue one over her, it was.. a bit tight in the chest, but the black lace trimmings where the skirt ended just below her knees and on the neckline were very nice.

“Would you get the back, dear? I can’t reach it,” Aziraphale turned around for her friend to button the back of the dress up, her breathing slow and hands shaky.

“I think I like you better in white,” Crowley remarked when Aziraphale turned around.

She blushed, “You don’t like it?”

“Ngh- I didn’t say that- I like it, I just think white suits you more,” she worried at a strand of copper hair, “It’s a long walk- we should get going.”

“Lead the way.”

The path had become well-beaten from Crowley’s near-daily walks over the past year, but the ground was still rough under Aziraphale’s bare feet, Crowley had forgotten to bring her a pair of shoes. Crowley went on about Warlock and his friends and what shops the two of them needed to visit and how Madame Tracy gave too much sugar in tea. 

Their first stop was a little boutique, an older woman with her frizzy hair tied up in a bun came up to them. She introduced herself as Maude and went almost immediately to work trying to find something for Aziraphale to wear. 

“My Leslie loves this one,” said Maude as she handed them a long tan circle skirt, “I’ll go find you a top for that.”

Aziraphale found herself being helped out of her dress by Crowley and putting a pale blue button-up with big bell sleeves, and the tan skirt, which she was delighted to find had  _ pockets _ . She slipped a pair of brown flats onto her feet, they were less comfortable than they looked but Aziraphale found she hardly minded. 

“Oh!” Maude clapped quietly, “You look beautiful, give us a twirl!” Aziraphale followed her instructions with a wide grin. 

“Yeah, I like you better in bright colors,” Crowley said, “Suits you.”

“I’ve already got you rung up, Miss Crowley.”

“Thank you,” she grabbed Aziraphale by the arm, “Come on angel, we’ve got more to see.”

There was more to see, so much more. To Crowley, this was just a small muddy town she’d known for nearly thirty years, but to Aziraphale, this was a wonder. She had lived by herself away from civilization for so long, suddenly being introduced to it was a bit overwhelming, she held onto Crowley for support. 

“You alright?”

“Oh, yes I am, rather,” she squeezed Crowley’s hand, “What is that smell?”

“Probably the bakery, my aunt runs it, well- Warlock’s aunt.”

Now they were sitting in the corner of the small bakery, a plate in front of them with a chocolate croissant and a half-eaten slice of angel’s food cake. 

Aziraphale was making quick work of her cake while Crowley ignored the noises she was making, little hums of excitement and appreciation with every dainty bite. 

On the way out Crowley thanked Mrs.Young and asked where Adam had gone and decided she would take Aziraphale to meet Them in the woods on the way back home. Aziraphale loudly complimented the croissant as they left and bid Deidre goodbye. 

“Okay there’s one more place I want to stop before we go have tea with Tracy,” Crowley pulled her friend to a small shop with dusty windows. 

The walls were covered floor to ceiling with books of all sizes, some looked like they had been bound this year, some older than Aziraphale, probably. There was scarcely room between the dust-coated shelves to walk. In the back, a bespectacled man with a white beard was humming some familiar tune while he carefully bound an old book together. 

Aziraphale paced the shelves reverently, running her fingers along the spines of the books. Crowley walked behind her and watched in wonder at the excitement in her eyes, sparkling in the low light. 

Crowley rounded a corner and found Aziraphale sat on the floor, reading a book with thin pages and leather binding. 

“What’ve you got there?”

Aziraphale jumped, “Oh! Dear, you startled me. It’s just Sappho fragments. Shame we’ve lost so much of her work, but I haven’t read some of these before.”

“You can take it,” said the man in the back of the shop, making the two of them jump, they had both forgotten he was there. 

“Oh-oh- that’s not necessary, I wouldn’t want to take one of your books,” Aziraphale began to shelve the book again. 

“No, you take it, it’s a shop for a reason.”

“Are you certain?” Aziraphale wrung her hands in front of her, the shop owner nodded with a kind smile. “Oh, thank you,” Aziraphale realized neither of them had asked his name.

“Terry,” he supplied.

“Thank you, Terry.”

“Afternoon, Tracy,” Crowley called from the door, “I brought someone to see you.”

Though Madame Tracy often complained about her bad knees, she came out to the front in almost a run, “Oh, hello, dears! You must be Aziraphale, I’ve heard so much about you. Come along, how do you like your tea?”

“However Crowley takes hers is fine, I believe.”

“Alright, I’ve got a chair for you in the back,” she adjusted her bright orange wig, “Anathema and her Newton should be here soon. I hope. I invited Mister Shadwell but he made some obscene comments I don’t think you’d appreciate.”

The last time Crowley had met Shadwell he’d asked her how many nipples she had and made comments about Beelzebub and dancing naked in the moonlight. Crowley had a feeling that having tea with everyone would be awkward enough without a senile man asking her friend about her nipples or her dancing habits (as far as Crowley had seen, Aziraphale only had two nipples and preferred reading by moonlight).

Aziraphale sighed in relief as she sat down in the floral chair Crowley pulled out for her.

“You alright, angel?”

“Perfectly fine, dear, just a bit dizzy.”

Tracy interrogated Aziraphale from the kitchen while she clanged around making tea, asking about her parents, and what she did for fun. Aziraphale got the sense that people wouldn’t react well to some several century-old woman, so she said she had been orphaned as a young girl and lived by herself in the forest, selling wool from the sheep she raised. 

That was partly true, she had never had parents, as far as she knew, she just remembered melting out of her tree and onto the ground, the other nymphs around her had fawned over her and taught her how to weave flower crowns and play reed pipes. She didn’t ever remember learning to read or write or learn any language, she just knew how to. 

“Oh, poor dear,” Tracy set two mugs down in front of Aziraphale and Crowley, “They’re the same, just pick the mug you like more.” Aziraphale grabbed the white mug with little wings for a handle and smiled, leaving the black and red one to Crowley. 

“Careful, angel, it’s hot.”

Aziraphale ignored her and took a sip and immediately recoiled, “Oh dear, that is hot,” she set the mug down gently and folded her hands in her lap. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> had to split this chapter in half and the next one should hopefully be up soon


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip back home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two posts in one day?? im unstoppable

Crowley’s tea had cooled enough to be drinkable by the time Anathema arrived. Almost the second she walked into the shop, rain started to pour down. 

“Just on time,” she remarked as she sat in the chair closest to Tracy and took a sip of the tea that was already in front of her.

Aziraphale smiled and waved, “Hello, you must be Anathema, Crowley’s told me so much about you.”

Anathema raised a perfect eyebrow over her glasses, “Has she?”

“Oh- oh all good things,” a pink rose in the nymph’s pale cheeks, “it’s nice to put a face to the name.”

Anathema smiled awkwardly and pushed her glasses up. 

“Where’s Newt?” Crowley asked after a beat. 

“He couldn’t come, sorry.”

Tracy frowned, “I wish I’d known, I wouldn't’ve made tea we didn’t need. He’ll come around eventually, dearie.”

Aziraphale quietly took a sip of her tea, “It’s a bit sweet,” she whispered to Crowley and pushed the mug away.

“You don’t have to drink it,” she whispered back.

“Oh, thank you.”

Tracy took to most of the talking, as she often did, telling Anathema about what Aziraphale had told her about earlier. Going on about Shadwell and how he always returned the dinners she made for him and what a gentleman he was.

“Aziraphale, dear, have you finished your tea?”

Aziraphale wrung her hands in her lap, “No, apologies, Madame.”

“It’s alright. I’ll read your palms instead,” Tracy moved them over to a small table with cushions on the floor, she grabbed Aziraphale’s hand. The blonde looked to Crowley for help as Tracy scrutinized her palms. “Oh, you have such a strong love line, I’m sure whoever it’s for is very lucky, long lifeline, too.”

“Thank you,” it was almost a question but Aziraphale was too polite for that, her cheeks were pink and she shifted uncomfortably on the cushion. 

“Don’t mind her, she’s just a kooky old woman,” Crowley whispered when Tracy got up to take the empty teacups to the kitchen.

“It’s alright, she’s charming,” Aziraphale breathed, “But I believe we should be going soon.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Just a bit tired, darling. I’m overwhelmed, I think.”

“Tracy?” Crowley called.

“Hm?”

“I think Aziraphale and I have to get going, she lives pretty far away, want to get her home before dark,” Crowley stood and popped her back.

“It’s hardly one o’clock. But, of course,” Tracy walked back out to the sitting room to hug Crowley, “You too, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale stood steady for a moment, then her head rushed and her vision went fuzzy, her knees almost gave out under her.

“Let’s get you, home angel,” Crowley wrapped her arm around Aziraphale’s waist and let her lean on her for support. Luckily the rain had stopped as fast as it had come. 

Only once they had walked past the Them’s fort did Aziraphale say, “Oh, I never got to meet Warlock. And I hardly spoke with Anathema, we left so soon.”

“Aziraphale, it’s fine. You have to get home, you’ve been away from home too long.”

“We can go back some other day.”

“Don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Crowley helped Aziraphale out of her clothes and laid her down right beneath her tree, where a few leaves had fallen on the ground dead. The nymph slipped back into her sheer dress and under her tartan blanket, falling almost immediately asleep. 

Crowley stayed by Aziraphale’s side for a few minutes before she headed home.

She couldn’t help but feel guilty, she had convinced Aziraphale to come to Tadfeild with her and now she was sick. Or something like it. Crowley groaned and laid down on her bed, promising herself she’d go back to Aziraphale early tomorrow morning with something from Mrs.Young’s bakery. 

Aziraphale rubbed the sleep from her eyes, her head was pounding and a young deer had found a pillow on her thighs. She gingerly lifted the deer’s head off of her lap and sat up and pressed her head into the soft, warm, wood of the apple tree. Aziraphale let herself slowly melt into the tree, the bark becoming almost liquid beneath her, absorbing her in the warmth of it. Her limbs extended into those of the tree, her feet went under the ground among the roots to drink the rainwater. 

It’s unexplainable, the feeling of being a tree. Imagine having hundreds of long fingers attached to dozens of long arms, you can feel the sun on most every inch of your skin, but there’s no fear of burning. Your entire body relaxes, but it’s heavy, like a weighted blanket, but you’re standing up. 

Aziraphale could stay like that for years if she wanted to, but she heard a voice, very faintly calling her name.

“Aziraphale, oh thank- Someone you’re alright,” Crowley gave her friend a tight hug. 

“Thank you, for bringing me home yesterday,” Aziraphale hugged her friend back, “And thank you for taking me out in the first place.”

The spinster parted from her friend, “I brought you a cookie. From the bakery.”

“I hope your friends didn’t think me rude,” she swallowed the last bite of the cookie gratefully. 

“Of course they didn’t, they loved you, want you to come back again, even.”

“I should.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” Crowley said firmly, “You only lasted a few hours out there.” Aziraphale was taken aback, her friend had never used that tone with her. The nymph played with the edge of her dress awkwardly. 

“Angel, I’m sorry, I was just worried about you. I love seeing you all the time and spending time with you,” she bit the inside of her cheek, “I wouldn’t want that to stop.”

Aziraphale knit her brows together and smiled, “No, no, it’s quite alright. I’m touched, that you’re worried about me like that. But, I’m perfectly alright.”

“Alright. If you say so. We can try again another day.”

Towards noon, Aziraphale laid out the tartan blanket Crowley had given her last year and laid down, Crowley sat beside her, listening to the running river and the singing birds, humming a familiar tune.

The sun emerged from behind a cloud, shining directly into Aziraphale’s eyes, she groaned and covered her face with her forearm.

“You alright, angel?”

“Quite alright, dearest, the sun is in my eyes- Oh- oh thank you,” she flushed at Crowley leaning over her, shielding her from the light. There was something so tender in her golden eyes as she took her dark glasses off. Her copper hair was getting long, and it was falling down around Crowley’s face. 

“Ah,” Crowley said, “No big deal.”

Aziraphale leaned up to put a strand of Crowley’s hair behind her ear, “Let me- Can hardly see your face.”

“Not much to see.”

Aziraphale moved her hand to cup Crowley’s freckled cheek, “Oh, darling, there is so much to see.” Never in her life had Aziraphale’s heartbeat this fast. Crowley was thinking something to the same effect. 

Somebody closed the gap between their lips. If you asked either of them they would say the other had done it. Crowley wrapped an arm around Aziraphale’s neck and laid her back down on the ground, she awkwardly crawled over her friend to not break the kiss until she straddled Aziraphale. 

They parted for a moment and smiled, Crowley ran her hands through Aziraphale’s blonde hair while the nymph wrapped her arms around her waist to lay her arms on the small of Crowley’s back. Crowley leaned down for another kiss, deeper this time, but she stayed gentle. 

“You’re really good at that,” Aziraphale breathed when they parted again.

Crowley moved an arm down to Aziraphale’s chest, “So I’ve been told.”

“ _ Oh _ . Goodness.”

“I’m worried I’m gonna mess this up,” Crowley murmured. 

Aziraphale tugged at her shirt, “I swear you won’t,” she kissed Crowley again. 

“Just- tell me if I’m doing something you don’t like, alright?”

Aziraphale sighed, “I don’t think you could.” 

Crowley felt incredibly lucky that Aziraphale had changed back into her typical sheer gown, it meant she had easy access to her partner’s pale collarbones and shoulders. Crowley took full advantage of this, pressing soft kisses on any of Aziraphale’s exposed skin. 

Her hands explored the soft curves beneath her, squeezing some places that made Aziraphale, ever the quiet type, gasp and whine. 

“Hng- not fair you’re so much more dressed than I am,” Aziraphale moved her hands from where they were playing with Crowley’s hair and squeezing her hips to her shirt buttons. Her face went red and hot. “I’ve seen you nude, dear.”

“Ngk-y-yeah but- not like this.”

Aziraphale let go of the buttons she was holding onto and gave Crowley a quick peck, “You don’t have to if you don’t want.”

“I want to- just-“ Crowley made a pained noise, “Not today.”

Aziraphale sat up so Crowley was sitting on her lap and she could be face to face with her, “Is this implying there will be another day?”

Crowley pulled Aziraphale down on top of her, “I certainly hope so.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we have some Important things coming up here, way faster than i planned but the plot gets away from me sometimes


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley has an important conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is shorter than i'd like it to be but i just needed to get something out

Crowley was with Aziraphale almost every day now, not much had changed, but they sat closer and touched more often and Crowley could just kiss Aziraphale whenever the urge came upon her (often).

Aziraphale had her head in Crowley’s lap, staring at the sky above and listening to Crowley talk about the book she’d been reading on astronomy. The nymph grabbed the back of her companion’s neck and brought her down for a kiss and smiled.

“I like kissing you,” she remarked.

Crowley gave her a lopsided grin, “I’ve noticed,” she sighed and gently pushed Aziraphale’s head out of her lap, “It’s getting late.”

Aziraphale pouted and sat up, “I do wish you didn’t always have to leave,” she pressed her forehead into Crowley’s.

“Me too, angel. Parting is such sweet sorrow.”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, “Hm?”

“Oh! You’ve never read any Shakespeare, have you?”

“Can’t say I have.”

Crowley realized she had never brought Aziraphale any Shakespeare books, she’d kept all of hers because she liked to read them sometimes. She much preferred the funny ones, though. “I’ll bring some tomorrow. I think you’d like them.”

“I’m sure I will,” she brought Crowley closer for a kiss and pushed her onto the ground to kiss along her jaw and down her neck. 

Crowley giggled and pushed the blonde off of her, “I have to go. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Crowley was still grinning like an idiot when she ran into Gabriel on her way home. Her grin left her face.

“Good evening,” the tall man said.

Crowley looked down, his daughters were with him, “Hello Esther, hello Lily,” she smiled at them, “Gabriel.”

Gabriel cleared his throat “How are you?”

“‘M fine,” she bent down to the eyes of the twin girls, “How are you two?”

Lily grinned, “I’m doing very good, miss.” Her sister nodded and her perfect little ringlet curls bounced on her shoulders. 

They both took after their mother with their pointy noses and warm brown hair. They took the almost alarmingly pale eyes of their father, but theirs had a warmth behind them that Gabriel’s did not. 

“Is that so?”

Esther spoke this time, “We went out and had cake for dessert after dinner! It’s not even my birthday!”

Crowley glanced up, “Any occasion?” Gabriel was kinder when he was younger, Crowley found herself hoping some of it still lingered in the bitter man. He had once asked her on a date, and she might’ve said yes had she not been busy with a young Warlock (she had since thanked whoever was up there for making her say no). Gabriel shook his head.

He had one thing going for him, Crowley thought as she said goodbye to the girls and their father, Gabriel was a good father. As far as she could tell, at least. 

Warlock was essentially living with the Youngs at this point, not that he had ever truly lived at home. Crowley tried not to dwell on it too much, he was a troubled kid, he wanted to spend time with his friends and his aunt and uncle. Somewhere in the back of her mind she wondered where he would go if she never came back from the forest, he was independent, he could take care of himself, but he was also a child that Crowley was responsible for. 

Crowley had accepted long ago that she would never get to settle down the way she’d like to. When she was younger she had dreamed of a cottage by the sea, where she could have a garden and maybe some chickens or something of the sort. There had always been a very blurry companion in this cottage, sometimes they were clearer, they got taller or their skin darkened, something like that, and now they were clearer than they ever had been. 

This new companion was only slightly shorter than her, in a flowing white dress with near-white blonde hair, and big, bright, eyes. 

The cottage itself had shifted as well, it no longer sat by the sea, but instead a flowing river, the garden was less organized, and animals meandered around, miraculously not doing any harm to any plant Crowley had planted.

The cottage had shrunk, it was only one story now, and almost every wall was covered in books, save the small kitchen with the wood-burning stove. Huge windows lined the sides, letting the sun in all day and a perfect view of the moon from the canopy bed with perfectly soft sheets and warm blankets. The living room was only one run-down couch and armchair with a tartan blanket hanging over one side.

“ _ Hifsssszzzzs, _ ” Beelzebub protested when Crowley tripped over him. 

“Ope- sorry,” she would’ve knelt down to pet the cat but she knew from experience it would make him angrier. “Warlock?” she called inside the house, “Have you seen Romeo and Juliet?”

“Somewhere on the bookshelf,” he said from the kitchen. Crowley surveyed their shelf, she knew the book was a dark red, how different from their other red and blue and black and brown books.

“Are you alright?” Crowley sat down at the dinner table after giving up on finding the book, she could look tomorrow morning before heading off to see Aziraphale, “I know I- I haven’t been around much.” Warlock set a bowl of oatmeal in front of her. She raised an eyebrow, “Oatmeal for dinner?” Her brother shrugged. “Warlock Thaddeus Crowley.”

“What?”

“Are you upset with me?”

Warlock often had trouble being honest with his feelings, “No- I’m just-,” he avoided eye contact, “I think I want to live with the Youngs. All the time.”

Crowley’s heart stung, “Have you talked with them about it?”

Warlock bit his lip and furrowed his brows, “Y-yes. They said I had to talk to you first. I’d see you the same amount, you’re gone all the time.”

“Warlock, kid, of course, you can- I want the best for you. So did your mum and dad. You were supposed to go live with them, anyway, but I just,” Crowley’s eyes watered, “I would’ve missed you so much. So I said I would take you.”

“Don’t cry. You’ll make me cry,” Warlock commanded.

“I’ve been a shitty sister lately, I’m so sorry,” her lower lip wobbled, “I’ll show you where I’ve been running off to, I swear. The day after tomorrow, I’ll bring you.”

Her brother’s eyes shone, “Promise?”

“I swear on my mother’s grave.”

Crowley learned that Warlock decidedly did not put enough cinnamon in his oatmeal and made a mental note to teach him better. 

After hugs and ‘I love yous’ had been exchanged, Warlock and Crowley both went to bed, Warlock taking his devil cat with him. 

“He’ll kill you one day,” Crowley said, “While you’re sleeping.”

“He would not. He’s a prince,” he held the cat up to Crowley, Beelzebub hissed loudly and swatted at her face, “Perfect Gentleman.”

“Prince of Hell.”

“Exactly.”

Crowley slept, reminding herself Warlock would be better off in a more stable home. Maybe she could completely sell their house, move to the woods with Aziraphale, go visit Warlock sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just want to write azi and Crowley kissing but i have plot to write ugh


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale hears a story she’s never heard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yaaay! mini hiatus hopefully over, thank you for being patient, also beware, here there be angst

Crowley found her copy of Romeo and Juliet in the morning before she went to see Aziraphale. On her walk to see her she thought of ways to read it, Aziraphale read aloud to her all the time, it would be nice to return the favor. And plays are always best read aloud, but she was only one person. Maybe someday if the theatre in the next town over did Romeo and Juliet, she could take Aziraphale. 

“Good morning, darling,” Aziraphale greeted.

Crowley went in for a kiss, “Morning angel.” Both of them wished they didn’t have to say that so long after waking, they wanted to rise together and exchange sleepy kisses and good mornings.

“I’ll never tire of that, I think.”

“I hope not,” Crowley reached into her bag and pulled her book out, “But I brought something.”

They settled in their normal spot on their normal blanket, Aziraphale laid her head in Crowley’s lap and she opened the book and cleared her throat, “Two households, both alike in dignity,” she said dramatically, Aziraphale giggled beneath her.

“In fair Verona, where we lay our scene, 

From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,

Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.”

“Oh, that rhymed,” Aziraphale pointed out.

Crowley leaned down to kiss her a smile, “If you’re going to point out every time it rhymes this will take all day.”

“If you’re going to kiss me every time I’ll keep doing it.”

“Wah-hey, no more kisses for you, then,” Crowley reprimanded, the nymph in her lap pouted dramatically, but she read on, “From forth the fatal loins of these two foes, 

A pair of star cross’d lovers take their life;

Whose misadventured piteous overthrows,

Do with their death bury their parents' strife.

The fearful passage of their death-mark’d love, 

And the continuance of their parents’ rage,

Which, but their children's end, nought could remove,

Is now the two hours traffic of our stage.”

“Two hours?”

“Yes, stop interrupting or it will be three.

The which if you with patient ears attend,

What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.”

Crowley went on reading, making up as many voices for each character as she could, in her deeper Romeo voice she got to her favorite scene, “Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take,” she shifted to pull Aziraphale into a kiss.

“I thought you said no more kisses.”

“It’s in the stage directions, angel.”

“Excuses, excuses,” but she leaned up to kiss Crowley again.

“Romeo is very dramatic,” said Aziraphale after the balcony scene I’m certain you all know.

“He’s a teenage boy of course he is.”

By the third act, Crowley had moved to lay on her side with Aziraphale sitting right behind the book, occasionally peeking out to distract and pester her.

“Am I like this when you read to me?”

“Sometimes.”

Crowley found it hard to tell if Aziraphale’s shocked gasps and remarks under her breath were genuine reactions to the story or just her being dramatic. Her sigh and eye roll at Benvolio seeing the “dead” Juliet made Crowley decide it was a mix of both.

Aziraphale was crying by the end of the play, “They could have avoided it if they communicated,” she said.

“I think it’s the family’s fault. Capulet hit his daughter and Romeo was banished because of some fight over a family feud.”

“Fair point.”

They spent the afternoon exchanging lazy kisses that gradually became more frenzied. Hands reached for buttons and tangled in hair.

“Is this okay?” Aziraphale asked and squeezed Crowley’s hip. 

“Ngk.”

Aziraphale paused and brought her hand to her chest, “Is it alright?”

“Ye-yeah.”

They were both fully undressed before Aziraphale pulled away for a moment, “I don’t know what to do. I’ve just realized.”

Crowley sat up to meet Aziraphale’s eyes, holding her hand and using the free one to push her down on the ground, “I can lead, I think.”

Crowley rubbed the sleep from her eyes and pressed her face into Aziraphale’s neck. 

“Good morning, love,” Aziraphale grinned, running her hands down Crowley’s back, “Did you know you talk in your sleep?”

Crowley crawled up to her lover’s face to pull her in for a kiss, “I do not. 

“Yes you do. You said something about sheep.”

The nymph giggled when Crowley nipped at her lip, “I don’t like them watching,” she defended, “I like you to myself.”

“They’re  _ sheep _ , they won’t take me away,” she stretched her sore legs, “And if they tried, I wouldn’t let them.”

One might think it would be uncomfortable to just lay naked on the ground, and normally, one would be right, but the softness of the ground beneath them and the warmth of each other’s bodies and the blanket wrapped around them, it was as close to perfect as either could imagine. The pair ran their hands and lips over each other lazily as the sun rose.

Crowley made marks on Aziraphale’s soft skin as she made her way down her stomach, “You’re so gorgeous,” she muttered and nipped at her thigh.

“ _ Oh _ ,” Aziraphale, ever the quiet type, buried her hands in the copper locks beneath her, “Dear, as much as I enjoy your erm-“ she turned a deep shade of pink, “ _ ministrations _ \- I’m exhausted.”

Crowley made her way back up, “Sorry, angel.”

“Oh, but we don’t have to stop,” Aziraphale’s hand traveled south and she sat up and knocked Crowley on her back, “But it’s your turn.”

When the sun was in the middle of the sky, Crowley and Aziraphale finally separated to cool off in the water, brushing their hair out and stretching their legs. 

“I could stay like this forever,” Aziraphale sighed contentedly, then added, “Only if you wanted to.” 

“I’ll have to go back at some point.”

Aziraphale knit her eyebrows together, “I know. Just pretend for a moment.”

“Mhm,” Crowley swam toward her companion and pressed her forehead onto the other’s, “I love you.”

Aziraphale responded immediately, as if on reflex, “I love you.”

They sat in the sun to dry off and, finally, Crowley started to pull her clothes on, “Put something on,” she tossed her jacket at the blonde, “I don’t like being the only one dressed.”

“You’re so nice.”

Crowley jumped onto Aziraphale and pressed her against her tree, kissing her all over her face and neck, “I am not nice.”

Had they not been so enveloped in each other's company, they would have heard the snap of a twig nearby.

“ _ I knew it. _ ”

Both women snapped up and turned to the man behind them.  _ Gabriel _ .

“You followed me,” Crowley stomped towards him, “You are such a  _ motherfucker. _ ”

Aziraphale closed her eyes and shrunk down, her sheep gathering around her. She knew this man. He’d been here years ago. 

Every day for a week, he brought her a gift, but not in the same way Crowley had. His gifts were empty, just a rose he’d plucked from its stalk or a ring. He just wanted to have children with her. She didn’t even know if she could have kids, and she didn’t want to find out. Especially not with him.

“Please leave me alone,” she’d begged, “I’m meant to stay here. With the tree, with my sheep.”

“I’ll cut your tree down, then,” he had declared, “And I will make room for your sheep.”

“No, you don’t understand- I’ll die.”

The next day she’d sunk to the bottom of the river before Gabriel arrived, hoping he would leave her alone. And he finally did, he screamed some things Aziraphale was glad were muffled by the water but never came back.

Until now, apparently. 

Aziraphale felt a sheep pressing his face onto her cheek, she focused on the feeling and her breathing, trying to calm herself down. 

Gabriel was yelling awful things again, words Aziraphale didn’t want to hear used against anyone, let alone the woman she loved. Things about  _ infection _ and the tainting of purity. Keeping tradition.

Aziraphale felt so powerless, she was shaking like a leaf on the breeze and sobbing.

Crowley screamed nearby, she sounded hurt. Aziraphale couldn’t move. She couldn’t look up. She had faith that Crowley could defend herself, she had become very familiar with her strong arms and careful hands, but guilt sat deep in her stomach. 

Did Gabriel have anything in his hand when he’d arrived? What was he here for? Why did he want to hurt Crowley? What had she  _ infected _ ? Everything melted together in her head, spinning around her, she shrunk smaller and smaller into a ball. 

Loud splashing from the river, stomping footsteps. Aziraphale managed to open her eyes and look up.

Gabriel stood above her, sheep between them, almost guarding Aziraphale so she was just out of his reach. Aziraphale wiped her nose and choked out a sob, before she could say anything, Gabriel dropped the axe he was holding. 

“You’re pathetic.” 

And he walked away. Aziraphale curled back into a ball and cried until her eyes were dry and she could hardly breathe. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i swear it will get better just keep with me


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rainy day

Aziraphale might have slept hours or days. When she finally woke up her whole body ached, her head pounded like two giant bees had stung her on either side of her head. Not that bees would ever sting her, they liked to crawl on her and buzz in her ear when she laid in the flowers.

Her sheep had moved around, though a few stayed close to her. One of them was using her chest as a pillow, which actually felt nice, grounding.

“Crowley?” she groaned, “ _ Crowley. _ ”

Everything was clearer now. She wished it wasn’t. Gabriel had been yelling about Crowley infecting Aziraphale,  _ turning _ her into something she hadn’t been. Crowley was the reason Aziraphale didn’t want to marry him. 

But that wasn’t true.. Aziraphale had always liked women. 

Hadn’t she?

She had only known a few men, all her other companions had been women. Or-woman shaped, Raphaelle hadn’t liked labels. It was silly to compare Raphaelle to Crowley, well- comparing her  _ relationship  _ to them was silly, as people, they were very similar.

The way Crowley’s fingers felt laced between hers was so reminiscent of how Raphaelle’s had felt, the way Aziraphale’s hands felt braiding their hair, the way they both threw their head back when they laughed. 

But she’d lost them both. 

She was an idiot.

Aziraphale shakily stood up and pressed her forehead into the bark of the apple tree. She focused on the warmth from the sun and the solid feel of it on her skin. She let the bark soften under her fingers, she sank into it, her body melting into the sturdy trunk, absorbing the sun on her leaves, the strangely comforting weight of the apples on her many limbs.

She let the birdsong, the rustling leaves and running river soothe her into sleep. Well, as close to sleeping as you can get when you’re a tree. She was so deep in her sleep she hardly noticed the rain. 

  
  


“Warlock? You alright?” Adam rapped on the door frame, “Crowley still not back?” Warlock sniffed and shook his head.

The Them looked at each other uneasily. 

“What?” Warlock scratched Beelzebub’s head, Pepper bit her lip. “What?” he repeated.

“We just heard that Crowley’s gone,” Brian finally admitted, “Something about- someone she ran off with.”

Warlock brought Beelzebub closer to him, something that would get anyone else torn to shreds by his claws. She hadn’t even said goodbye. She’d just  _ left _ him.

He assumed that everything here was his now, or did it go to the Youngs? Or his father’s family?

Warlock frowned, he was already half moved in with the Youngs, but that left all of Crowley’s things here. 

She didn’t even take anything with her. 

“Let’s head down to the fort,” Brian grabbed Warlock and dragged him out of the door, Beelzebub at his heels. Dog barked at the skinny cat, and he immediately jumped into Warlock’s arms.

Normally, Beelzebub ran off as soon as possible when Dog arrived, or got hissing and scratching even when Warlock held him. The idea that the cat knew he needed him was comforting, at least somebody would stay with him. 

The rain started when the five of them got to their fort. A bucket went under the one leak they always said they would fix later but never would. Beelzebub still clung to Warlock, purring loudly on his chest and rubbing his forehead on his person’s shoulder.

“Rain means God is crying,” said Wensleydale.

Pepper snorted, “About what?”

Wensleydale shrugged, “Dunno. Ask Her.”

  
  


Crowley woke in more pain than she’d ever been in in her life. Her clothes were twisted and torn, they hung heavily from her body, soaked in water and blood. Blood? Was it hers?

She crawled onto a smooth rock above the water she was submerged in. She was almost too weak to do anything. Crowley left her undergarments on and started to look for injuries. 

Bruises everywhere, little cuts on her joints, her hands were scraped up, and a giant cut on her ribs. She winced when she touched it, it had stopped bleeding, but the huge scab was stiff and dry. 

Aziraphale would probably call her a poor dear, insist she lay down and kiss her all over.

_ Aziraphale _ . Crowley immediately reached to check for the snake pendant and sighed with relief at the cool metal on her fingers. 

She looked around, the river ran toward her, by the bank there was a clay deposit, she could start there. 

Tadfeild was downstream, unless it was upstream from here. She didn’t want to go to Tadfeild anyway.

Crowley dragged herself and clothes to land and hung them on a tree in the sunshine, she needed to rest someplace warm and dry. 

Crowley was used to waking up alone, she’d done it for years (save nights Warlock had crawled into her bed after having a bad dream, but he always denied it) she had a feeling she would do it the rest of her life.

She’d thought  _ maybe _ that could change with Aziraphale. If she could find her again.

If she was alive.

She broke down crying and curled beneath a dead tree. She abandoned Warlock, she’d been missing for- how many days. She could’ve been out for hours or days. How she survived was miraculous, actually. Gabriel’s axe must’ve missed anything vital. It still hurt like a motherfucker though, she was probably coming out of shock, it hurt even worse than it had before. 

Crowley was more mad about the things he’d said about her than the things he’d done. 

‘Turning’ Aziraphale, tempting her,  _ defiling _ her. She wanted to go back to however long ago when she didn’t remember what had happened. 

A small rabbit hopped up to her to let her scratch behind its ears, it thumped it’s leg on the ground in appreciation. 

“Hey,” she rasped, “You’re sweet.”

Her clothes were almost dried, she shook them out and put on at least her trousers and a shirt, her boots must’ve come off in the river, they were nowhere in sight. She set off upstream barefoot, trying her best to avoid anything to hurt her feet too badly. 

Then it started to rain.

Crowley groaned and looked up at the sky, “Are you mocking me?”

It rained harder.

“I shouldn’t be alive,” she said, “What’d you do that for? Pity? I don’t like being pitied. Strike me down.”

Nothing happened.

She kept walking.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is pretty short but i wanted the reunion to have its own chapter


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really really like this chapter and i hope you do too

Crowley was only walking for a few hours before she heard the bleat of a sheep. Tears welled in her eyes and she ran toward the sound. Her bare feet and tired body were forgotten and she nearly collapsed in the clearing beneath the apple tree.

“Aziraphale?” she called, the blonde was nowhere in sight, ”Angel? Where have you gone.”

She broke down crying again, her eyes were dry and her whole face was probably red and puffy. She didn’t care, she just wanted her angel back.

Crowley leaned against the apple tree, telling herself Aziraphale would be back soon, surely she would. 

Aziraphale melted out of her tree and onto the ground. She let the blood come back to her limbs and took a deep breath. 

“Aziraphale?”

Aziraphale’s eyebrows shot to her hairline, she whipped around to the familiar voice, “ _ Crowley _ ,” she cried. Her copper haired companion shot up to pull her into a bone-crushing embrace. Tears welled in both their eyes, “I thought you were gone,” Aziraphale pulled away and pressed her forehead into Crowley’s, “Gabriel- that was two days ago.”

“ _ Two days _ ?” Crowley ran her hands through soft white hair. 

“I- I think so. I’ve been sleeping a lot. This might be a dream, actually,” she kissed Crowley as if to make sure it was real, “That feels the same.”

Crowley melted into her arms, “I swear I’m real. But- I’m so tired.”

“Oh, dear, I can hardly imagine. Lie down, let me take care of you.”

“Ngk- ‘m alright.”

Aziraphale tutted and gently pushed Crowley down onto where she’d left her blanket, “Please, my love.”

Crowley closed her eyes and relaxed into the touch of Aziraphale’s hand. “Only since you insist,” she sighed.

Aziraphale slowly took Crowley’s dirty clothes off, button by button, looking up for approval every other second, as if she could ever do anything to hurt her companion. 

“Oh, poor dear,” she kissed all over Crowley’s sensitive skin, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t help you. I was panicked, you see, and I couldn’t stand up an-“

“Hush. I already feel so much better, thank you,” she pulled Aziraphale down for a kiss, cupping her cheek. Her joints protested her leaning up in an attempt to deepen the kiss. 

“I think a swim would help you. You need a proper wash,” Aziraphale ran her hands over Crowley’s chest, “The water will be warm, I promise.”

Crowley made a pained sound, “I don’t have the energy to swim right now, angel.” Aziraphale put a hand under Crowley’s spindly knees and one to support her back and picked her up, bridal style. “Hng!” said Crowley, eloquently.

The feeling of the warm water combined with the softness of Aziraphale’s chest nearly put Crowley to sleep, her pain stopped, at least for a moment. Aziraphale set her down on a rock under the water, so she was up to her neck in the warmth, and started to finger-comb through her hair.

She moved on to rubbing the dirt and blood from Crowley’s body, gently massaging her muscles as she went. 

“What did I do to deserve you,” Crowley hummed, more a statement than a question. 

“You deserve the world,” Aziraphale rubbed her hands onto her lover’s neck, “Those are new.”

“What?”

“I think you have scales now.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow and reached up to check for herself, “I do.”

“How’d that happen?” Aziraphale started to run her hands all over, searching for more rough patches. How Crowley hadn’t noticed before was beyond her.

“I dunno.”

They let the matter be, they could discuss it later, right now, the only thing either of them wanted to do was lay together and let their hands and mouths wander all over each other. 

Crowley woke up with her head resting on Aziraphale’s soft chest and hands braiding and un-braiding her hair. 

“Morning, angel.”

“The sun is setting, love,” Aziraphale kissed her forehead gently, “You were exhausted.”

Crowley nipped at a soft spot on Aziraphale’s chest, “You made sure of that.”

“Fiend.” 

“I know you like it that way,” she shifted positions between Aziraphale’s soft thighs.

“Hm, dear, I was thinking about your-erm, scales,” Aziraphale ran her hands over a patch on Crowley’s lower back, “They remind me of my old friend.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, Raphaelle, she had scales like these. I erm- I didn’t know her body as  _ intimately  _ as I know yours but- I think the other naiads had scales like hers,” she brushed copper hair out of Crowley’s face, “and pointed ears. You look more like her now than you did before.”

Crowley grinned, “Didn’t she say something about the river,” her face fell, “Before she passed?”

Aziraphale bit her cheek to think for a moment, “She did. The next woman who drowned there would be reborn and become the spirit of the rive-  _ oh _ . D-did you drown, dearest?”

“Must have.”

Aziraphale’s eyes welled up, “Oh, Crowley, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine, I don’t even remember it.”

“That’s probably best.”

Crowley curled into her lover’s chest and the pair wrapped their arms around each other. “Hey Aziraphale?”

“Hm?”

“When did you get so strong?”

“I don’t know, I always have been, I suppose.”

Crowley hummed, “I think you should use it more often.” Aziraphale raised a scandalized eyebrow. “O-only if you’re comfortable with it.”

Aziraphale giggled, “I just thought you’d find it off-putting.”

“I find it on-putting.”

In the morning, they both got up to stretch their legs and swim in the river, Crowley found herself healing faster than she normally should have, even faster in the water. 

“Can I breathe underwater?” she wondered aloud.

“Raphaelle and her friends could.”

Crowley dipped her head under the water and took a deep breath. It was a strange feeling, water didn’t fill her lungs, it was like a cold, crisp, air. The same air of the first white morning of winter, with the snow perfectly clean on the ground. She opened her eyes, seeing perfectly clear in the water. Tiny fish swam around her, a few rubbed on her outstretched hands.

Crowley looked around at the river rocks beneath her, spotting one shaped almost exactly like a heart. She swam to grab it before she surfaced behind Aziraphale and wrapped her arms around the nymph. 

“Oh!” Aziraphale took herself out of her lover’s arms, “I take it you can, then.”

“I got something for you,” she handed her the rock, “shaped like a heart. Reminded me of you.”

Aziraphale pressed her forehead to Crowley’s, “Same exact color of your eyes,” she closed the space between their lips, “Have I told you they’ve grown more golden since you came home?”  _ Home _ . “There’s so many layers to them. Too many shades of yellow and gold to name. I could stare at them forever, if you’d let me. 

Crowley flushed, “I’m not perfect with words, but I could look at yours forever, too. But there’s so much more of you to look at.” 

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we still have some loose ends with plot to tie up but we’re nearing the end of this fic, i think


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Discussions are had between two forest beings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shorter chapter than normal but i just want to get something out

Crowley woke up to Aziraphale staring at her lovingly, “Good morning, dearest.”

“Nhm, morning, angel.”

A breeze blew through the trees, it should have been cold, but Crowley supposed she was feeling just as Aziraphale did in the winter. Aziraphale straddled Crowley and ran her hands over a patch of scales on her arm.

“I’ve been thinking about your- ah- condition, and I was up reading one of the books you gave me.”

“That’s why I woke up cold last night.”

Aziraphale gasped, “Oh, apologies, I was only up for a moment,” she fondly remembered crawling back into Crowley’s grasp and how she’d gripped her like a child with a teddy bear.

“‘S alright.”

“Well, as I was saying, you brought me a book on mythology, and I’d like to start by saying I believe myself to be real, there’s a lot of conflict on who’s Up There,” she gestured up, and Crowley shrugged, “but I think whoever it is took pity on you, and resurrected you.”

“I thought resurrection is into a different body, like shouldn’t I be a snake or something? Slithering around on my belly, smelling stuff with my tongue.”

“Well, the myths don’t get everything right, some of these say I should have skin made of tree bark.”

Crowley ran her delicate hands across Aziraphale’s body, “No, much softer than that,” she emphasized her point with a squeeze on her thigh.

“Oh! Fiend,” she gave her lover a soft peck on the lips, “You keep interrupting me. Anyway, I think this is a new body, sort of, still just as perfect as before. I believe you were given another chance at life,” she paused for a kiss, “in one you deserve. With someone who has no idea what they did to deserve  _ you _ .”

“I don’t know what made Up There think I deserve this but you certainly do.”

“Well,” Aziraphale began, “You’re  _ nice _ , you’re generous, you genuinely care about people, you’re gentle yet you know when to be strong.”

Crowley jokingly pushed the swarm of nymph kisses away from her, “I am not nice.”

“Yes, you are,” Aziraphale ran her hand down Crowley’s stomach, “Now, enough about deserving things, you have the things you have and  _ I’m _ content with them, but if you aren’t-“

“I never said that!” Crowley sat up and looked to the sky through the leaves, “Whoever is up there just know I am  _ more _ than happy with my life right now and I would like it to stay the way it is forever.” 

“I completely agree with her,” said Aziraphale.

A small, angry cat approached the lovers beneath their tree and crawled into Aziraphale’s lap, “Oh, good afternoon, darling.”

“Reminds me of Warlock’s cat,” Crowley’s eyebrows shot up in realization, “ _ Warlock _ . I abandoned him. I was- I was going to talk to him when I woke up in the river and I was just so bent on getting to  _ you _ I completely forgot about my baby brother,” Crowley curled into herself, “I’m such a horrible sister.”

“Antonia J Crowley,” Aziraphale pushed the cat off and pulled Crowley onto her lap and cradled her, “You have been through so much, and I am so proud of you. I will make sure you see Warlock again. Just- I want you to stay here with me. At least until we figure this out.”

The cat crawled into Crowley’s lap, presumably very mad that Crowley had taken the best seat in the forest dee from it. “Thanks, angel,” she smiled as the cat leaned into her touch, “Beelzebub would tear me to shreds if I did this.”

Aziraphale giggled, “Beelzebub?”

“Prince of Hell, appropriate for that little bastard, I think.”

“I’m sure he’s a darling, I’ve never met an animal I didn’t like.”

“Cause you’ve never met an animal that didn’t like  _ you _ .”

“Flatterer.”

“I mean it, I’d write letters home about you if I could.”

Aziraphale gasped, “Oh, I’ve figured something out I think. For Warlock. Write him a letter, and get it to where he lives and tell him to meet you out here, I think I read it in a book at some point. Just let him know you’re alright.”

“Clever, angel. B-but can it wait? I want to see him so bad but ngh, I want it to stay this way for a while.”

“Of course, wait as long as you need. You’re still recovering,” she slipped down to kiss the scar on her ribcage, a small patch of red-tinged scales had developed over some parts of it. Crowley jumped at the sensation. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, just sensitive.”

“A bad sensitive or-“ she wriggled herself from underneath Crowley and put her hands around her neck.

“Good sensitive, just be gentle.”

The cat must have known what was about to happen because he got up and ran off, laying down on a napping sheep. 

“What  _ does _ the J stand for?” Aziraphale asked many hours later, in a slight daze with sore legs and a sweaty forehead.

“What?”

“The J. Antonia J Crowley.”

“Just a J, really,” she borrowed her head further into Aziraphale’s chest, listening to her steady heartbeat, “Anything more to Aziraphale?”

“No, simply Aziraphale. Bit boring, I think.”

“Is not. Never heard a name like yours, ‘s like an angel, they all end in ‘ale’ ‘iel’,” Crowley threw her hands around, “Samael, Uriel, Raphael, Aziraphale,” she punctuated her sentence with a kiss on a small bruise on her lover’s chest, “Name suits you.”

“Thank you. I think Crowley suits you better than Antonia though. It’s a beautiful name, it’s just not right for you. Crowley: spirit of the Serpent River, has a nice ring to it,” she spread her hands broadly as if there was anyone to see her other than sheep and other forest animals. 

Crowley smiled fondly, Aziraphale was dramatic and over the top so often, she could light up all of Tadfeild with her smile and theatrics. However, she was happy to have all of it to herself. Less in the way of Aziraphale belonging to her and her alone (a ridiculous concept, Aziraphale was her own being, who could do as she pleased) but more in the way she wanted to be the only one to belong to Aziraphale. The only one Aziraphale wanted to love and hold. The way she felt for Aziraphale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you thought of this chapter (and last chapter also bc thats my favorite)


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More conversations, and a letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOD IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG, ive had some Writers Block and a real bad lack of general motivation, and schools back in and all that. BUT, i did make an apple pie at some point and i thought of my girls while i ate it, it was very good, sorry for being rambly but. yanno i feel bad for having not posted in like a month

Crowley had been thinking of things to write to Warlock for hours while Aziraphale read in a high branch of her tree. A branch that, mind you, should not have supported the weight of anything larger than a small child, but it would not dare to let Aziraphale fall.

“Aziraphale,” she groaned, “I still don’t know what to say. How do I tell him that his sister isn’t really dead and now lives in the woods with a strange woman he’s never met.”

“Why don’t you start with the fact that you’re alive and alright, you don’t even have to mention me,” she slowly came down from her branch as she spoke, “I didn’t know it was uncommon for two women to be together,” she placed a hand on Crowley’s shoulder, “Which I think is strange because it feels so natural to be with you,” she paused, “Though I don’t know if I would be with you if you were a man, I’d certainly take a bit longer to trust you, but-“

“Angel.”

“Right, sorry. I just think you should tell him you’re alright, ask him to meet you somewhere, I’m sure all of this would be easier to explain in person. You said he has a fort in the woods, yes? Leave the letter there.”

Crowley bit the pen she’d apparently left in her jacket all she’d written on the scrap paper from a book Aziraphale could bear to have torn (partially) apart. All she had written so far was  _ Warlock, _ . 

_ Warlock,  _

_ Do you remember when you were little and I told you about how I thought I would be reborn into a snake? I was wrong. _

“Angel, I feel like an idiot,” she grumbled and laid her head on Aziraphale’s shoulder, “This doesn’t feel real.”

“Well, I certainly feel real,” she ran her hands through Crowley’s hair, “You feel real. Can’t say anything about the idiot bit, however.”

“Oh, bastard.”

Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s chin in her soft hand, turning her head so she could look her in the eye, “You love me.”

“Regrettably,” she hummed, cupping her angel’s cheek and closing the gap between their lips. 

They parted for a moment, “I will make you regret it,” Aziraphale stole another kiss, deepening it until Crowley had been fully turned around and found herself with a lap full of softness.

“God, stop, have mercy,” the redhead giggled as she was pressed onto the ground, “This is awful I hate it, I hate you.”

“Oh, hush,” Aziraphale peppered kisses all across Crowley’s face and neck, “You fiend.”

“You are the fiend, a distraction, I need to talk to Warlock,” she pushed her lover up, both suppressing frowns at needing to stop. 

Crowley licked her lips, chasing that apple-flavored sweetness that always remained when she kissed her partner. She had never actually been a big fan of apples, and would laugh when told that Adam and Eve left paradise just for a taste of it. 

Now she understood.

If  _ she _ had been offered to stay in paradise or brave the great unknown with Aziraphale by her side, she would have chosen Aziraphale in a heartbeat (though if you asked Crowley, those two options were practically the same thing).

When Crowley’s head had finally come out from between Aziraphale’s perfectly plump thighs and had taken a dip in the river to clear her head and replenish her energy, Crowley laid on her stomach, pen in hand (and in mouth, she had a habit of chewing), practically blank paper before her. 

_ Warlock, _

_Do you remember when you were little and I told you about how I thought I would be reborn into a snake? I was wrong._ _At least I think I was. Anyways, just walk deeper into the woods past the fort, you’ll find a path. Just keep walking._

It was only after Crowley had made her journey to the fort she’d helped Them build and found their mailbox (“Who’s going to be sending you letters?” Crowley had asked when she hammered it into the ground, Adam had shrugged) did she realize she hadn’t signed her name at the bottom of the scrap paper. The longer she thought, the worse the letter sounded, she had never been very good at that type of thing. 

But the longer she thought of  _ that _ , the worse she felt, so she thought about what she was going to say when- if- Warlock came to see her. 

Her mind wandered all about, as it often did, her father had at some point, said something about attaching it to a leash, it would be in Scotland by the time she realized it had wandered off. When she had reached home, (she delighted in calling it that, she’d never had a Home with a capital H before), her mind was making its way to Edinbrugh, probably for a festival, her mind enjoyed festivals. 

Aziraphale was reading, so Crowley was silent as she sat on a stump and stared at her angel’s concentrated face. The way she furrowed her somehow perfect brows, and how when she looked down, you could hardly see her eyes behind the long eyelashes she batted when she was feeling flirtatious. The nymph put a strand of hair in its place behind her pointed ear and jumped, nearly dropping her book on the ground. 

“ _ Crowley,” _ she gasped, “I could’ve dropped my book!”

“What’s the difference between you putting it down on the ground and dropping it on the ground?”

Aziraphale opened her mouth, and closed it, then opened again to say, “I put my books on a rock and I clean the dirt out often, it’s different. You even made me lose my place.”

“You’ve read it before.”

“Oh, but it’s just- different, I can’t explain it.”

Crowley grinned and sauntered over to her lover, “I’m teasing.”

Aziraphale pretended to be upset for a moment, “You know,” she planted a kiss on the tip of Crowley’s nose, “Sometimes I think you were sent by whatever is Up There to torment me.”

“I’m not doing my job well apparently, if that mark is saying anything.” Aziraphale flushed and covered her neck with her hair. Crowley leaned in with her arms on Aziraphale’s shoulders, “If I’m doing anything it’s tempting you.”

“If I remember what you told me correctly, I think  _ I _ tempted  _ you _ , my apple tree.”

Crowley sat on Aziraphale’s plush thighs, she had at some point put her book down on the ground without Crowley registering it, “You are not the almighty God and there was no ‘Don’t Touch’ sign. In fact, I think you might as well have had a ‘ _ Please _ Touch’ sign.”

“ _ Crowley _ .”

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are my life source. blease

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are really appreciated


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